Me Without My TARDIS 2
by potterlad81
Summary: Harry, Hermione, and Neville are still stuck in the past, and have started to build a life for themselves. Things are settling down, but then darkness rears its ugly head again. Harry's once more drawn into battle against the dark. With his friends and family he just might be able to fight them off.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1—Death Stalks the Land**

Friday, June 24, 1949, Hogwarts Castle, Scotland

Harry staggered from the room, letting the door slam behind him. He looked affright: matted hair, soaked robes… Sweat dripped from his brow, chin, and fingers as he sagged against the cool stone wall, and slid to the floor, sighing mightily. His Defence NEWT was complete. It was the last of his final tests, and smiled with the knowledge that he'd done well. Better than well, really. He'd crushed the test.

He sat there, propped against the wall for perhaps fifteen or twenty minutes until Hermione emerged from the room. She looked tired, but happy, and not nearly as wrung out as Harry did.

"Merlin's ghost, Harry," she said, helping him to his feet. "I think you almost killed Professor Kilmeade."

"Nah," Harry replied, standing at last. "He almost killed me!" Harry waved a hand across the air and the time appeared in front of him. It was about an hour until supper. "Come on. I need a shower and then I need to lie down."

"You shouldn't be doing wandless magic," Hermione admonished. "Your reserves are still low from that demonstration you gave the professor." Harry nodded in acceptance and allowed Hermione to pull Harry towards Gryffindor tower. He'd just spent a half an hour in individual combat with the NEWT examiner. It was an experience that had left both worse for wear. When Professor Kilmeade had told Harry to attack him with everything he had, Harry didn't think he expected what he'd gotten.

"I'll be fine once I eat something," Harry replied as they set off.

"What was that brown spell with the green tinge?"

"I can't even remember," Harry replied with a chuckle. "I think I lost track after he managed to dodge the siege engine spell and the wall behind him disappeared."

"I think that's when everyone else started paying attention," Hermione commented. "Did you realize that all other testing stopped once that happened?" Harry smirked but shook his head. "The other examiners looked just as shocked as the students."

"Kilmeade gave as good as he got," Harry observed.

"Yes, after that siege engine spell it became a real grudge match," Hermione said. "I'm just glad you finally felled him with a stunner instead of something deadly. I don't want my boyfriend sent to Azkaban!"

"Think I'll get an O+ like on my OLWs?" Harry asked with a grin.

"I'll be surprised if Professor Silver doesn't just hand you a mastery after your grades come out," Hermione snorted.

"Nah," Harry said, shaking his head. "The Defence mastery's a bit more complicated than that. Plus I'll have to do my teaching time." They'd gotten a bit of that experience this year, which had surprised them both.

Professor Dumbledore's health had been going slowly downhill ever since Christmas 1948, when he'd recovered the third of Tom Riddle's horcruxes—the ring with the Resurrection Stone—and been compelled to put it on. He'd spent the summer tutoring Harry and Hermione in Transfiguration, and Harry had watched with concern as the withering curse had inched its way up his hand past his wrist and beyond the cuff of his robes.

Still, they'd learned quite a bit about advanced Transfiguration. Harry and Hermione had both become animagi. Hermione was a Red Fox. Harry, to the surprise of everyone, became a Griffin. It had not been known previously that wizards could become magical animagi. Harry and Hermione had co-written a paper putting forward several hypotheses and discussing the theory behind Harry's transfiguration that was published in the _European Journal of Transfiguration_.

Harry and Hermione had each also created their own spells. Harry's had been a solid to gas transfiguration that he'd accomplished by applying atomic theory to magic. It had allowed him to arithmantically rearrange the atoms from whatever solid was targeted, and change them to water, with the heat of the change converting the liquid to steam immediately. Harry envisioned it as a combat spell, that removed an opponent's cover, scalded them with steam, and covered the caster's escape by clouding the field.

When they'd begun their seventh year, Dumbledore had asked them to assist him in teaching the first year classes to allow him more time to rest. The withering curse was clearly taking a toll on the man. He'd rescheduled the first year classes to one of their open periods. The firsties had been easy, even the Slytherins. Harry had taught the Gryffindors and the Slytherins, while Hermione taught the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. Their students had done passably well, with all but the most incompetent students passing the class with an A or better. Teaching the firsties had given both Harry and Hermione valuable experience, and would be a boon to whomever they could convince to take them on as apprentices.

In Gryffindor tower, Harry and Hermione separated to shower and change. As Harry left the shower, he ran into Neville in the hall.

"Alright there, Nev?" Harry asked, still towelling his head.

"You bet!" Neville replied, throwing his book bag down on his bed. "I'm quite sure I just aced my Defence NEWT." Harry threw the towel in his trunk and pulled on some shorts.

"That's great!" Harry said enthusiastically. He was genuinely happy for Neville. These past two years had really seen him excel. "How're your plans for the summer shaping up?"

"Good," Neville said. "I've got word from the greenhouse that I'll be able to start in two weeks."

"You're still coming back in the fall, though. Right?" Harry finished getting dressed in some clean khakis and a light green button down.

"They know," Neville assured him. "Marina would kill me if I didn't." Neville's girlfriend was very excited to be starting a Potions mastery in the fall. It dovetailed nicely with Neville's proposed Herbology mastery. That, and the thought of them finally living in the same part of the castle had her practically dancing in anticipation.

"Well, Hermione's waiting for me, so I'd better get going," Harry said. "See you at supper."

"See ya," Neville agreed.

Harry nodded and left, heading down to the common room. Hermione was there, but so was Professor Yates. They wore grim looks. Hermione even looked like she might be forcing back tears. Harry came up to them, dreading the news.

"Mr. Potter…"

"He's gone, isn't he?" Harry asked, cutting off the middle aged witch.

"Yes," Yates nodded, her blue eyes softening. "Just a few moments ago." Harry was stunned. It was expected, but there was no preparation for the pain he felt. Professor Albus Dumbledore, the one constant in his magical life was suddenly no longer in it. "I'm so sorry for you both. I know how close you were."

"Thank you, Professor," Harry replied automatically. "This can't be easy for you either." While Harry hadn't thought Yates was particularly close with Dumbledore, they were colleagues, and at least casual friends. Professor Yates nodded.

"The formal announcement will be made at supper tonight," Yates informed them. "I'll make sure you get a portkey for the funeral."

"When will that be, Professor?" Hermione asked.

"I don't think it's been set yet," Yates replied. "But I'll ensure you're informed."

"Thank you," Hermione said. As Professor Yates left, Harry pulled Hermione into a hug and the two cried for their mentor.

ooOOOOoo

"It is with great sadness that I inform you of the death of Professor Albus Dumbledore," Headmaster Binns said abruptly after rising at the conclusion of supper. "His illness was well known to all, and this was not unexpected. Still, it is a tragedy. He will be difficult to replace." The hall was stunned to silence. While it was true that most were aware of Dumbledore's affliction, it was not well known that it was fatal. Dumbledore and the staff had not been especially forthcoming to the general student body in that regard.

"His lack of empathy astounds me," Harry sighed in the stunned silence.

"Almost as much as his ignorance of the facts," Hermione agreed quietly.

"The funeral will be held at the Dumbledore family plot in Godric's Hollow at ten in the morning on the twenty-sixth of June," Binns continued in the disinterested monotone he was famous for. "All faculty and students are welcome to attend."

"Doesn't give much time for the announcement to go out," Harry observed. It was Friday, June 24. The Express would be leaving the next day. It would be a busy weekend.

"And now, it's time to award the House and Quidditch cups," Binns said, transitioning effortlessly, as though he hadn't just devastated most of the students. "I'm pleased to announce that Ravenclaw House has been awarded the House Cup. Well done." There was scattered weak applause as Binns handed the trophy over to Professor Silver, the Defence professor and head of Ravenclaw. "And in celebration, let's bedeck the hall accord…" Professor Silver leaned over and began whispering in Binns' ear. Binns appeared to be affronted, then hid it, composing himself. He finally straightened. "While usually the Great Hall would be bedecked in Ravenclaw colours, in light of Professor Dumbledore's passing, the hall will instead be draped for mourning." He waved his wand, and black hangings appeared, along with black and grey wreaths on the tables.

"The Quidditch Cup…" Binns continued, as though he hadn't just been interrupted. "…is awarded to Gryffindor, who had an undefeated season this year. Would the team captain please come up to accept the trophy?"

George Wood sighed mightily and hauled himself to his feet. He walked as though his feet were filled with lead as he made his way to the front of the hall. When he got there, Binns stood before him with a disinterested smile on his face.

"Congratulations, Mr. Wood," he said, handing over the trophy. George nodded and turned. Then he brightened and hefted the trophy over his head.

"I, and the rest of the team, would like to dedicate this victory to our head of house, Professor Dumbledore!" There was enthusiastic applause at that pronouncement, and afterward, George quickly moved to his spot at the table and passed the trophy around to the teammates.

The leaving feast concluded swiftly after that, and the subdued student body returned to their common rooms in a sombre mood.

"I don't feel like sitting around with the others," Hermione said as she held Harry's hand. "Can we go to the Room?"

"Sure," Harry agreed. "It is date night, after all." Hermione gave him a wan smile and nodded.

"I don't know that I'm really in a date mood," she said as they walked. "But I want to be alone with you. I'm not really sure the others understand." She looked back at the crowd of Gryffindors who were talking amongst themselves.

"I know," Harry said. "It can be our own private wake."

ooOOOOoo

Harry was miserable. He stood in his formal robes next to Hermione and the rest of the Potters. The sun was merciless, and the temperature was near 85º F. Sweat mixed with the few tears that managed to leak out of his eyes, so that his face was streaked with wet trails.

Around him, the graveyard was full to near bursting to commemorate the life of the defeater of Grindelwald. It seemed that everyone had turned out. The Ministry was there in force, as were the international crowd. Hogwarts was also well represented. Harry thought that upwards of ninety percent of the students and all of the faculty were present. Albus Dumbledore had been a very popular man.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," a voice called from the front. Harry recognized the speaker as Aberforth Dumbledore. He was far younger than Harry remembered, and looked much more like the sixty year old Albus Dumbledore than the one hundred-something Aberforth had looked like the one hundred-something Albus. Harry was surprised, because he didn't think that Aberforth liked Albus all that much, though he'd never discovered why. Still, Harry supposed family was family. "If you could all please take your seats, we'll begin." He waited while the seating area filled completely, and the remaining congregation gathered around.

"We are here today to bury my brother, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," Aberforth said. "Albus lived a great life, full of the things he loved. He had a love of learning and a love of justice that he carried with him through his final days. He wanted you, his legions of friends and colleagues, to know that it was his privilege to know you. Indeed, he was well liked by most. It will be painful for many to let him go. And now, I'll turn the podium over to our first eulogizer, the Minister for Magic, Wilhelmina Tuft."

While he waited for the new speaker, Harry sighed and wiped his brow. He glanced over at Hermione and saw her sweating as well. Finally, the handshakes were done and the Minister took the stage.

"This is perhaps the saddest passing imaginable for our community," she said. "Albus Dumbledore gave more to us than we could possibly imagine. His defeat of the Dark Lord Grindelwald saved not only Magical Britain, but all of Magical Europe and it materially assisted Muggle Europe as well. With a stroke of his wand, Albus Dumbledore ended the worst war that has ever plagued this Earth." Harry felt that was a little hyperbolic, but made a concession for the memory of the man. "The Chief Warlock was also an astute politician, who, in his three years in the post, managed to make significant changes to better the Ministry and the lives of British Witches and Wizards. He was a unifier, a coalition-builder, a man of vision, and we are all saddened to see him pass so young."

As Minister Tuft droned on, Harry glanced behind him to gauge the reactions of the crowd. Most seemed appreciative of her words, nodding in agreement. Some, mostly purebloods sat stony-faced, refusing to allow Dumbledore the moniker of visionary even in death. One of those faces Harry recognized as dangerous: Bernard Rosier.

Bernard, just eighteen, had been suspended from Hogwarts two years before for attacking Harry in the halls. He was carrying on a feud started by his friend Leslie Mulciber. Rosier was dark, and ambitious, and a pureblood zealot. Unfortunately for him, he was also stupid. Those were a dangerous combination, and Harry was disturbed to see Rosier glaring not at the Minister behind the lectern, but at Harry. When their eyes met, Rosier sneered at him. Harry watched him nudge a man next to him, who cast Harry a dirty look.

In his seat, Harry surreptitiously palmed his wand, keeping it out of sight at his side. He returned his attention to the funeral service, but would keep tabs on Rosier from time to time by pretending to check on Hermione.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked quietly after the fourth time he looked at her.

"Bernard Rosier's standing in the back," Harry whispered. "He's been glaring at me for the past ten minutes and talking to the man next to him."

"It's probably his father," Hermione opined after sneaking a glance. "Did you notice that there are about four other men who all look a little like Rosier?" Now it was Harry's turn to glance back. Once he'd seen it, he couldn't un-see it: Bernard and his father were accompanied by four other men between twenty and forty, a boy who looked just old enough for Hogwarts, and three women.

"I just hope they don't try anything here," Harry said, turning back.

"I doubt it," Hermione snorted. "Half the Auror force is here. They wouldn't dare." Up at the front, Minister Tuft was replaced by Professor Binns, who began droning on about Dumbledore's academic achievements. Harry used the time to continue to watch the Rosiers.

When Professor Binns was done, Elphias Doge, Dumbledore's closest personal friend, took the podium. The poor man was in tears, and could barely wheeze out his eulogy. His distress was exacerbated by the heat, and the corpulent man's robes were practically soaked through. What little hair he had left was plastered to his head. Harry found it difficult to listen to him, and remained concentrated on his own safety.

Suddenly, Doge stopped talking. Harry glanced to the front, and saw the man collapse. Other guests gasped. It looked to Harry as though the man had passed out, probably from a combination of grief, heat, and stress. A few people in the front row rushed up to help him. Harry used the opportunity to look around, and it saved his life.

Rosier used the distraction to strike. While everyone else was focused on the front, Rosier drew his wand and cast. Harry shouted something unintelligible and ducked, pulling Hermione down with him as the emerald green spell impacted the old witch sat in front of him. Down between the seats, he had a moment to think, and looked over at the rest of his family.

"Dad!" he shouted, pointing to the rear. "Rosier!" Fleamont looked at Harry, saw the lady slumped in her chair in front of him, then glanced back to see the entire Rosier clan brandishing wands.

Bernard cursed as his spell missed, and was slow to get the next one off. Fleamont was already reacting, pulling his wife Euphemia to safety behind the chairs. Others were starting to move as well, but not fast enough. The other Rosiers began to take advantage of the commotion and started firing spells.

Harry looked over as Lord Henry and his wife, Lady Winifred, began to move as well. Lord Henry pushed Winifred down and was drawing his own wand when another killing curse struck him in the back.

"No!" Harry shouted as he watched Lord Henry collapse lifelessly onto his wife. The other Potters managed to dive to safety, largely shielded from the attack by the other mourners and the chairs.

Harry snapped. He was done losing people he cared about to arseholes like the Rosiers. He glanced at Hermione, silently willing her to stay safe. Then, with a fearsome glint in his eye, he apparated away. He appeared directly behind the Rosier clan, brandishing his wand and started casting. In an instant three of the Rosiers were impaled on rocky spikes that erupted from the ground. It was seconds before the Rosiers realised anyone was behind them, and by then it was too late. Next to his impaled son, Bernard's father turned and saw his own death coming as a reductor curse hit him in the chest.

One of the remaining two brothers screamed a war cry and raised his wand. He looked shocked when he failed to cast anything. His hand was severed by a cutting curse from Hermione. Fleamont joined the battle as well. His wand felled the last Rosier male with a bone-exploding curse.

The three Rosier women were instantly cowed. One of them huddled over her son, while others held each other. They weren't threats.

Harry scanned the crowd for danger, but saw none. Everywhere was pandemonium, Doge long forgotten. Witches and Wizards were scrambling to get away from the fight, climbing over chairs and other mourners or simply apparating away. As the people fled, the dead woman and Lord Henry were conspicuously visible in the sea of empty chairs. Next to them, stood the Potters: a united front—a phalanx of wands. On the other end of the killing field stood Harry, covered in the gore of his enemies, his sharp green eyes alight with an indescribable fire.

He lowered his wand as he saw Aurors approaching. It was to their credit, he realized, that they didn't fire first and ask questions later. Harry carefully pocketed his wand and raised his hands over his head.

"You sure do make a statement, don't you Potter," one of the Aurors said as he arrived next to him. Harry recognized the young Auror. It was Alastor Moody, not yet known as Mad Eye. Moody seemed to realize what had happened, and that Harry hadn't started the fight, merely ended it. "Relax, boy," Moody said, trying to avoid stepping on any body parts. "I'm not going to arrest you… yet. You wanna tell me what happened? I was lookin' at the whale at the lectern when the business started." Other Aurors were arriving as well, but most seemed content to let Moody take charge. They busied themselves collecting evidence and locking down the scene.

"I noticed the Rosiers were back here," Harry began. "They'd been watching me since the start of the funeral. I suppose Bernard took advantage of Mr. Doge fainting to attack me. He's been after me ever since he was suspended for attacking me in December 1948."

"This goes back to the Hogsmeade incident in November of that year?" Moody asked, pulling out a notebook.

"Well, back to my run-in with Leslie Mulciber on the Hogwarts Express in September, but yeah," Harry agreed. "Rosier just couldn't let it drop. I thought things were done when he didn't try anything at school last year, but I guess I was wrong."

"So who fired first?"

"Bernard Rosier," Harry said firmly. He cast a killing curse at me, but I ducked and it hit the lady sitting in front of me." He pointed to where she was still slouched in her chair.

"Okay," Moody allowed. "What happened then?"

"I got everyone's attention, and the rest of my family started to take cover," Harry explained, then stopped. He paused for a moment as the gravity of what he was about to say sank in. All at once, it seemed as if the adrenaline built up over the course of the fight left him and he visibly sagged. "One of the other Rosiers got Lord Henry with a killing curse before he could get to safety."

"I'm sorry, Potter," Moody growled, and clapped Harry's shoulder in a conciliatory gesture. "He was a great man." Harry nodded.

"I guess, when I saw Lord Henry go down… I just snapped," Harry reasoned, regaining a bit of his vigour. "I was so sick and tired of the bloody Rosiers… I apparated behind them and… went to war. I can provide a pensieve memory for the record."

"That's fine," Moody allowed, observing Bernard and two of his uncles impaled on shafts of rock. They were dead, probably hadn't known what hit them. Bernard's father Tobias Rosier, and one of his uncles were in bits and pieces all over. The only surviving Rosier had fainted after he'd lost his hand, and was in the custody of the Aurors. "You can come down to the Ministry on Monday for that."

Moody looked at the three women and one son. They were being looked after by a team of Aurors. They'd be interrogated eventually, but not now. Not here.

Harry looked around at the now mostly empty graveyard. His eyes scanned the gravestones and empty chairs, coming to rest on a small clump of people standing where the Potters had been sitting. They were clustered around Lord Henry's body.

"I need to go," he said absently, and started walking over to the crowd. He stopped next to Hermione, on the outside of the group. She turned when she heard him arrive.

"Oh, Harry!" she cried, and flung her arms around him. He reciprocated as she wept into his chest. "I'm so glad you're alright. Lord Henry…"

"I know," Harry consoled softly, looking over her head to where Lord Henry lay. Lady Winifred was sat on the ground, holding Lord Henry's head in her hands and weeping softly. Fleamont and Charlus stood over her, speaking quickly in whispered conversation. Their wives were crouched around Lord Henry, trying and failing to provide comfort to Lady Winifred. Simon, now ten, stood behind his mother, staring with wide eyes at Lord Henry's body.

Harry drew Hermione away once she'd calmed down a bit, and led her by the hand over to where Fleamont and Charlus were.

"What are we doing?" he asked them softly.

"We're going to take him back to Peverell Court," Fleamont said. "Then I need to go to Gringotts. We were already scheduled to go tomorrow for Dumbledore's will reading, since you're mentioned in it. Might as well make it a family affair and get dad's will read too."

Harry knew Lord Henry's funeral would be private. The Potters were not a showy family. They didn't do public funerals, weddings, or other family events. They kept to themselves. It was how they'd survived for millennia. Harry nodded, accepting Fleamont's decision.

He turned around and saw that Hermione was trying to distract Simon, but wasn't being very successful. He looked back at Fleamont who was preparing a portkey.

"Is there anything we can do?"

"Take Simon back to Peverell Court," Charlus said. "We'll deal with Dad and Mum." Harry nodded, and went to help Hermione.

ooOOOOoo

It was a sombre Harry, Hermione, and Fleamont that made its way into Gringotts the next morning. Lord Henry had been buried the night before in a very private ceremony in the Potter graveyard. It was a small patch of grass in a forest clearing somewhat north of the main house on the Peverell Court grounds. Harry found it a little eerie to lay the man to rest under the flicker of torchlight, but it seemed to fit the family's mood.

When the trio approached the head teller, Fleamont stated his business, and was sent to Og. Harry and Hermione, again entrusted to a young Griphook, were guided to a large conference room. It was a large and ornate affair with a soaring ceiling and dark wood panelling. Another goblin was sitting at the head of the table. Several other people were seated around the table already. Harry recognized Professor Binns, Professor Silver, and Aberforth. Harry and Hermione took seats together next to Professor Silver.

"Hello, Mr. Potter; Miss Granger," Silver said softly. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

"Thank you, Professor," Harry replied as Hermione nodded.

"Yes," Binns said from across the table. "Bad business, that." Professor Silver shot Binns an unfriendly look. Harry merely nodded curtly. They were spared any further comment by the door opening again, revealing a very red-faced Elphias Doge. He moved slowly, which Harry could understand. The man was still recovering from his episode the day before.

"Now that we're all here, we can begin," the goblin said once Doge had taken a seat at the table. "I will now read the last will and testament of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore…" Harry found it difficult to pay attention, as he was focused on the impending reading of Lord Henry's will, which was far more consequential to his family. That is, until he heard the goblin say his name.

"To Mr. Harry James Potter, I leave my home in Hogsmeade, along with all contents not otherwise bequeathed, and a sum of one thousand galleons," the goblin read. "To Miss Hermione Jane Granger, I leave my collection of books and a sum of one thousand galleons." Harry and Hermione were stunned. Harry barely registered when the goblin passed them both sealed envelopes with their names on them.

The rest of the reading passed quite quickly, and before he knew it, they were back in the lobby, where they were met by the rest of the Potter family, who had arrived a short while earlier. After brief greetings, Harry looked down at the envelope in his hand and opened it. He extracted four sheets of parchment. The first was the deed to 27 High Street, Hogsmeade, which he refolded and returned to the envelope. The next was a bank draft for one thousand galleons, which he likewise returned to the envelope. A letter followed, which he read.

_Dear Harry,_

_It has been my absolute privilege to get to know you these past two years. It cheers me more than you can imagine that I have been able to influence your life in both the future and the present. While I am saddened that I will not have the opportunity to become the man you knew me as, I hope that our experiences together and the knowledge I have imparted to you will allow you to grow into the man I know you can become._

_You have accomplished much in the time that I have known you, and I am sure that you will accomplish even more in the time you have left. In order to help you on your way, I am presenting you with a house to call your own, and a small monetary token of my esteem that I hope will in some small way help you bear the burdens you do and shall. I have also notified Gringotts of your mastery of the Sword of Gryffindor, thus establishing your heirship to the Gryffindor line. You may talk to either the Potter or Dumbledore family account managers to take up this mantle._

_My final gift to you is something you have earned over the past year and a half of study, a Mastery of Transfiguration. I hope you will forgive me this small deception, and it pains me that I will not be there to see you receive it, but it is yours, and it is my pleasure to award it to you after observing all your hard work and sacrifice. The necessary paperwork has been filed with the Department of Magical Education, and they have agreed to recognize your achievement._

_Go forward, my friend. Never stop learning. Never stop growing. Never forget. I shall remember you always, and I will see you when you too cross over to the next great adventure._

_Yours Truly,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

Harry looked up and saw Hermione engrossed in her own letter through the tears in his eyes. He wiped his face roughly with his sleeve and tried to get his emotions back under control. He folded the letter neatly and returned it to the envelope. The last piece of parchment was a certificate declaring his Mastery of Transfiguration and its recognition by both the Ministry and the International Confederation of Wizards.

When she finished reading, she looked up at Harry, and whispered, "A mastery?" Harry nodded and smiled at her.

"I suppose we earned it," Harry replied. "Congratulations."

"Congratulations to you, too," Hermione said, giving him a brief hug.

Just then, Griphook appeared, and ushered the Potters and Hermione back into the conference room Harry had just left. Og was seated at the head of the table, with Fleamont to his right. The Potters took their places, with Charlus on Og's other side, and their families stretching down the table. Lady Winifred was at the far end. Og cleared his throat.

"We are here to execute the will of Lord Henry Potter," he said when he had everyone's attention. He read all the standard legalese at the beginning of the document, and then got to the bequests.

"Charlus Potter shall be recognized as head of a cadet line of the Potter family. He shall take uncontested control of his family's trust vault and management of his son's trust vault. He shall receive from the Potter accounts a sum of one million galleons and the Parkmoor Estate, at which he currently resides, along with all property and sundry items it contains," Og read.

"The remainder of the vaults, monies, and properties of the Potter family, and the Potter lordship, to include all titles and honours, shall pass to my son, Fleamont Potter upon the following conditions:

"First, he shall care for my wife, Winifred Potter, until her dying day and she shall not want for anything during that time. Second, he shall name as his heir, his son, Harry Potter, to inherit upon his passing. Third, he shall continue to provide assistance, counsel, and care to Hermione Granger, treating her as a member of House Potter.

"Should these conditions not be met, or should Fleamont predecease me, all remaining vaults, monies, properties, and the Potter lordship shall pass to my grandson, Harry Potter," Og finished. He turned to Fleamont. "Do you agree with the terms set forth by your father, Lord Henry Potter?"

"I do," Fleamont replied softly.

"Very well," Og said, pushing back the chair and standing. "Please rise." Fleamont did so, and using a sword, Og bestowed the Potter lordship, along with the titles and honours of the family. He placed a cornet on his head, a livery collar around his neck, and placed the Potter family signet on his finger. When he was done, the family applauded quietly. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you Lord Fleamont Potter, Duke of Hereford, Earl of Mercia, and Baron Greystoke, head of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter. Our business is now complete. I shall leave you the room."

When the applause died down, Lord Fleamont sat in the seat that had been occupied by Og.

"Mum," he said after looking at everyone. "What do you want to do?"

"I… I can't live in Peverell Court anymore," Lady Winifred said, wiping her nose. "The whole place reminds me of Henry."

"Do you want to move to the London house?"

"That would do," Lady Winifred replied.

"I'll have Pinky and Whip pack up your things," Fleamont said kindly. "I suppose that means Mia and I will be moving into Peverell Court. Harry, you and I will have to have a talk soon."

"Okay, Dad," Harry replied. "I have some business with Og before we go."

"Oh?" Fleamont asked. "What did Dumbledore leave you?"

"A house in Hogsmeade, a thousand galleons, a Transfiguration Mastery, and the Gryffindor lordship," Harry revealed. Eyes bulged around the table.

"That solves one problem, in a way," Fleamont murmured. "Well, you'd best be off then, Lord Gryffindor." Fleamont smirked and waved him away. "I'll see you when you get back to Edgewood. It'll take your mum and I some time to move out. It'll be a busy few days."

Harry nodded and looked at Hermione. "Would you like to come with me, 'Mione?" Hermione nodded and followed him down the hall to Og's office. He rapped on the door.

"Enter!" Og called. When Harry opened the door, Og nodded. "Mr. Potter, Miss Granger," he said politely, waving towards seats opposite his desk. "I had a feeling I'd be seeing you again before the day was through."

"About the Gryffindor lordship, no doubt," Harry agreed.

"Could you please summon the sword?" Og asked. Harry held up his hand, touched his magic, thought of the sword, and called it. It appeared in his hand, weighty and radiating an odd warmth. It shone despite the gloom of the office. "You are indeed the master of the sword, and therefore heir to Godric Gryffindor."

"What does that entail?" Hermione asked, leaning forward as Harry lowered the sword.

"In addition to acquiring a vault," Og enumerated, "Mr. Potter will become the Earl of Monar, an ancient Scottish magical title, the holder of which is Laird of Hogsmeade."

"I've never heard of that," Hermione processed aloud.

"I doubt you would've," Og replied. "The last Earl of Monar was Godric Gryffindor himself, and he was only the fifth to hold the title. Hogsmeade wasn't very large at the time, and Hogwarts was new."

"What are the duties of the Laird of Hogsmeade?" Harry asked.

"You're tasked with governing and protecting the village and Hogwarts," Og replied. "To do that, you're entitled to collect rents or taxes, and the tenants are to provide you with service, should you require it."

"That's medieval!" Hermione exploded.

"Indeed," Og observed. "As I said, the last holder was Godric Gryffindor, who died before the Norman Conquest of England."

"I'm not required to collect rents or require service, though, am I?" Harry asked.

"You may rule as you see fit," Og shrugged. "It's your land. I can have the title ready by tomorrow, if you'd like. The account ledger for the Gryffindor vault will also take some time to clean up. That I can also have available by tomorrow. The Letters Patent will have to be updated, as the monarchy has gone through several changes since then. That can be completed by Friday. Our part can be done by tomorrow, but we have to send them to the Court of St. James for processing, which will slow things down."

"That's fine," I can come back on Friday," Harry replied, slightly overwhelmed.

"Excellent," Og agreed. "That will give us time to submit a request on your behalf to join the Wizengamot."

"What?"

"As a member of the nobility, it's your right to sit on the Wizengamot," Og informed him. "While the Earl of Monar has never sat on the Wizengamot, he did sit on the Wizard's Council in its time. Such an action should be relatively routine. It occurs at least once a decade: a magical noble line in abeyance after squibbing out will be reactivated with the birth of a magical child from that line or a non-magical noble will sire a magical child who succeeds to the title. This would be a variation on the former. It's fairly simple."

"I'll defer to your greater expertise and experience," Harry granted. "Is there anything you need to do today?"

"I can appoint you today, or you can wait until Friday," Og replied. "It matters little."

"Then let's wait until Friday," Harry decided. "I'll see you then." He stood and offered a hand to Hermione. He bowed slightly to the goblin. "May your gold run in rivers alongside the blood of your enemies."

"And you, Lord Gryffindor," Og replied with a smile.

ooOOOOoo

"Would you like to talk now, or later," Fleamont asked Harry when he arrived home.

"We can talk now, if you like," Harry replied. Fleamont gestured to follow him outside. They were standing in the back garden, planted with food to supplement the ration coupons that were still being issued in post-war Britain. Fleamont wandered down one of the paths.

"You're an adult now," Fleamont said after a moment. "You have been for almost a year, but now, you're ready to strike out on your own." Harry chose to wait to respond, so Flea continued. "I'd intended to offer you Edgewood to live in, however there are some complications." Harry continued to remain silent and Flea looked at him. "My first concern was that should I give you this property, Hermione would become an issue."

"I don't think…"

"You don't have to play coy with me, Harry," Flea interrupted. "I know you're sleeping together. If I cared, I would've stopped it a year ago when I found out."

"So what's the problem?" Harry asked. His voice was calm, but his face was the same colour as a tomato.

"Society," Flea replied. "While I can claim you're not sleeping together when I'm chaperoning you, were you both to live here on your own, people would talk."

"Who would tell them?"

"Word would get out," Flea said simply. "Someone would make a mistake, and it would slip. Anyway, society won't tolerate two unwed people cohabitating. I don't know what it was like in the 1990s, but here in the 1940s it just isn't done. We need to at least put up a façade of propriety."

"Okay," Harry replied. "So what do you want me to do?"

"The way I see it, you have two options," Flea said, stopping in the middle of the garden. He looked at Harry and smiled broadly. "First, you could just marry the girl. Merlin knows you two love each other at least as much as Mia and I, and based on what I could hear that night you forgot the silencing charms, you're pretty compatible, at least in the bedroom." Harry's blush increased tenfold.

"Erm, sorry about that," Harry murmured, looking at his feet.

"Forget it," Flea dismissed. "Everyone does it sooner or later."

"Even you?" Harry asked, looking up, his own sly grin on his face.

"In my youth," Flea agreed with a chuckle. "Anyway… If you're not ready for that, I could let Hermione stay here, and you could stay in Dumbledore's place in Hogsmeade. You could apparate, portkey, or floo between the two and no one would be the wiser."

"This sounds like a conversation I should have with Hermione," Harry said after considering it for a moment.

"Fine," Flea allowed. "Just let me know by the end of the week." Harry nodded. "Until then, you'll be staying here. Your mum and I will be moving to Peverell Court tomorrow. Can you and Hermione take care of yourselves here until you give me your decision?"

"Sure, dad," Harry agreed, nodding. "Thanks."

"No problem," Flea said. "Now I've got work to do, and you have a talk to have with Hermione. Best get cracking."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2—Love in the Air**

Harry went back inside. Seeing no one, he flooed to the Leaky Cauldron. From there, he went to Gringotts and withdrew £10,000. Between the money given him by Fleamont, the money he was bequeathed by Dumbledore, and the money from the sale of the basilisk, it barely made a dent. He left the bank, passed through the Leaky Cauldron, and exited into Muggle London.

"Take me to a nice jeweller, please," he told the cabbie he flagged down. The traditional London cab wended its way through Westminster to Mayfair and deposited him in front of Garrard and Co. a four storey Georgian structure at the corner of Albemarle and Grafton. "Thanks," he said, paying the cabbie.

With a deep breath, Harry entered the store.

"Hello, young man," a man greeted him. "Can I be of assistance?" He was perhaps forty, in a pristine three-piece suit. He looked entirely full of himself.

"I'm looking for an engagement ring," Harry replied.

"In that case, might I suggest De Beers?" the man offered. "They're just down the road."

"Oh," Harry said, sighing. "Do you not have engagement rings?"

"We do, but I'm afraid they're out of your price range," he said, taking in Harry's tweed suit.

"Your engagement rings cost more than ten thousand quid?" Harry nearly shouted, astonished. The man's eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

"My apologies," the man quickly said. "I'd be happy to help you find something." He led Harry over to a glass topped counter. He moved behind it and began extracting some very fine pieces. Harry noticed they didn't have price tags, and he didn't ask. It took about an hour, but Harry finally settled on a three-carat diamond surrounded by a circle of half-carat sapphires on an intricately carved platinum band. Satisfied, the clerk placed the ring in a box and handed it to him.

"How much?" Harry asked as he pocketed the item.

"£5,100," the man replied softly.

"Will cash be alright?" Harry asked, reaching for the wad of bills in his pocket. He began counting off £100 bills, before presenting a stack of them to the man and returning the remainder to his pocket. Again the man gasped that Harry would be brazen enough to carry £10,000 in cash in his pocket around London, but took the bills, and wrote out a receipt, which he handed to Harry.

"Thank you for shopping with Gerrard, and if you have any further jewellery needs, please think of us," the man said professionally. Harry merely nodded and walked out, hailed another cab, and returned to the Leaky Cauldron.

Ten minutes after making his purchase, he was brushing the soot off his clothes when Hermione walked into the family room and found him.

"Where did you go?" she asked, brow furrowed.

"I had an errand to run," Harry replied with a knowing smile.

"Are you up to something?" she pressed. "Tell me!"

"I may be," Harry replied. "Come on, and you can find out." Harry pulled her hand, and led her into the back garden.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"You'll see," Harry said elusively. The two fell in together, and started walking. "D'you remember at the end of last year, when I asked you what you wanted to do when you graduated?" he asked, making conversation. She nodded. "Has anything changed?"

"Not really," Hermione replied thoughtfully. "I mean, I was thinking about pursuing a Charms mastery, but now I'm not sure if I should, since I've already got a Transfiguration mastery."

"You should," Harry told her. "I'm planning on doing a Defence mastery if I can get Professor Silver alone long enough to ask him. I think it'd be nice to do masteries together, even if they're not the same subject. Besides, we can't both be the new Transfiguration professor." Hermione smiled and nodded as they entered the forest behind the garden.

"Dad knows about us," Harry said, blushing slightly as he told her.

"What do you…" she paused, blushing.

"He told me he heard us," Harry revealed. "Said we'd forgotten the silencing charm once." Hermione blushed beet red.

"Oh, dear," was all she could muster.

"It was ages ago," Harry continued. "He said it didn't matter to him."

"But he knows!" Hermione worried. "How can I look him in the face again?"

"Mum and dad do it too," Harry reasoned. "You know that. It's something all adult couples do. We're supposed to. Well… maybe not supposed to yet."

"What's that mean?" Hermione asked. They entered a small clearing split by a small brook. The path had a wooden footbridge over the brook.

"Well, in the 1940s, it's not really proper to sleep together until we're married," Harry said calmly, stopping on the footbridge.

"It wasn't really proper to do it in the 1990s either," Hermione replied, rolling her eyes.

"Anyway," Harry pressed ahead. "Now that dad and mum are moving to Peverell Court, he approached me and asked what we were going to do."

"Why?" Hermione asked, trying to puzzle out a reason.

"He wanted to know where we were going to live," Harry supplied. "He was going to give me Edgewood now that I'm an adult, but wasn't sure what to do with you."

"I'd live with you of course," Hermione stated.

"That's fine, but in order to do so, you have to answer one question," Harry said seriously. He put his hand in his pocket as though he was going to rest it there. His hand flexed around the small box there.

"What question?" she asked, worriedly. Harry steeled his nerve and sank to one knee, pulling the box out of his pocket and opening it for her.

"Will you marry me?" he asked, staring up at her. She was silent, her mouth formed an 'O' as she gaped at the ring. When several seconds had passed without an answer, he continued. "I can't imagine life without you. I love you more than I can say, and I want you beside me always." She simply stared at the ring in the box for several more seconds. "'Mione… say something. Please!"

"Dear. God." She took the box from his hands and examined it closely. "This diamond's huge! How much did you spend on this?"

"Less than you're worth," Harry replied, standing. "I want everyone to know how much I love you. I don't think this will do even half the job, but it was the nicest ring they had on hand."

"It's amazing!" she gushed.

"So is that a yes?" Harry pressed. His stomach was in a knot, waiting.

"Of course it's a yes!" Hermione practically shouted. Ring box in hand, she wrapped him up in a crushing hug. "I love you so much. Thank you." She kissed him soundly before drawing back and holding up the ring box. "Now, are you going to put this on my finger, or make me wait?"

Harry rolled his eyes, but took the box with a smile, extracted the ring, and slipped it on her finger. It was a little loose, but a quick bit of magic fixed that. Being a Transfiguration master was handy sometimes.

"Perfect," was all he said. She admired the ring on her finger for a second before kissing him soundly again. Then she pulled away, and started running back down the path.

"Come on!" she called back.

"Where are we going?" Harry asked as he followed her.

"To tell everyone, of course," Hermione responded.

Harry caught up with her, and together they hurried back to the house. They found Flea and Mia in their room, packing clothes into their trunk. Harry and Hermione were both gasping.

"What's going on?" Flea asked.

"We've decided where we're living," Harry told him.

"What do you…" He stopped when Hermione held up her hand, showing off the shiny new ring on her finger.

"Sweet Merlin!" Mia gasped, and immediately rushed over to view it up close.

"I guess that's settled, then," Flea observed. "Here or there?"

"Probably both, if you'll let us," Harry replied. "Either way, we'll be together."

"When do you want to do it?" Flea asked.

"Family only, right?" Harry replied. Flea nodded. "Then it doesn't matter. As soon as we can get everyone together."

"Where?"

"'Mione, where do you want to get married?" Harry asked.

"Where you proposed was nice," Hermione thought aloud. "Or is Peverell Court available? If it's raining we could do it in the library."

"That's fine," Flea agreed. "I'll see if Charlus is available sometime this week. Will that work?"

"'Mione?" Harry deflected.

"Sure," Hermione agreed. Then she squeaked. "I'm going to be Mrs. Potter!"

"You're going to be Lady Gryffindor," Harry reminded her.

"Lady Potter too, someday," Flea added with a smile.

"Hopefully not for a long time," Mia said sternly, glancing at Flea.

"I believe I'll floo Charlus and see when he and his family are available," Flea said lightly, and quickly left.

"I'm so happy for you both!" Mia cheered, and pulled both of them into a hug.

ooOOOOoo

"I wonder if it will feel different," Hermione pondered that night. She lay next to Harry, basking in post-coital bliss, a slight sheen of sweat on her brow and chest.

"What? The sex?" Harry asked.

"I dunno," she shrugged. "Everything. I won't have to sneak back to my own bed after…"

"You can do that now," Harry offered. "If mum and dad haven't said anything about the sex, they're not going to say anything about you spending the night."

"You think?" Hermione wondered.

"Seriously?" Harry asked, grinning and rolling onto his side to look at her. "Are you wearing my ring or not?" She looked at it on her hand. "We're practically married already… will be in a few days anyway. What's the harm?" He reached over and groped her lustily.

"You're incorrigible," she said, lazily swatting him with her hand.

"That may be, but you love it," Harry replied with a grin. "And I think we should start practicing sleeping together… you know, for when we're expected to do it."

"Fine," Hermione fake huffed. "You convinced me. Happy?"

"Yep," Harry nodded, then leaned in for a kiss.

ooOOOOoo

"Are you two decent?" Flea called through the door. Harry and Hermione were both awake. Harry was in boxers standing at his wardrobe, while Hermione was sitting at his desk in a dressing gown brushing her hair. Harry pulled on some trousers and opened the door.

"How did you know she was here?" Harry asked.

"Besides the fact that she wasn't in her room?" Flea asked with a raised eyebrow. He leaned against the door jamb as Harry went back to the wardrobe to pick out a shirt. "Relax," he advised, seeing Hermione reddening under his gaze. "Mia was in my bed for the better part of two months before we tied the knot."

"How did you pull that off?" Harry wanted to know.

"Mum and dad didn't care," Flea shrugged. "Mia's parents didn't either. We were engaged, so it was okay. Besides it wasn't like we advertised it." Harry went to reach for a shirt. "You're going to want to upgrade that to Morning Dress," he advised.

"Wait… it's today?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Charlus is leaving on a business trip tomorrow," Flea said, nodding. "Mia's planning to take Hermione out dress shopping after breakfast. Dorea's already here to help. Wedding's at one, if that's alright with the bride and groom?"

"Oh!" Hermione cried, springing up. "I've gotta go!"

"Why?" Harry asked, confused. "Breakfast won't be ready yet."

"You're not supposed to see me on the wedding day until the ceremony!" she snapped playfully. "Now you've gone and ruined it!"

"Me!?" Harry asked, joking. "I'm the one that didn't get a stag night…" He stopped when Flea laughed out loud.

"Boy, that's the last thing you need," Flea said when he straightened up. "Don't ever give Hermione a reason to doubt your love for her. She deserves better. You don't need to go out and get drunk and stare at made-up women, just love the one you have."

"Thank you, Uncle Flea," Hermione said, pecking his cheek on her way out the door.

"I was only kidding," Harry sighed. He put the shirt back and reached for the shirt from his Morning Dress. "Who's officiating the ceremony?" Harry asked, suddenly.

"I am, you great yob," Flea chuckled. "As head of your house, and since Hermione doesn't have one, it's my right, duty, and privilege to marry you. Charlus will be walking Hermione down the aisle. Think of it as a last act of guardianship from the House of Potter on her behalf."

"Do we get any say in this wedding?" Harry asked, wowed by the amount of thought others had already put into it.

"Sure," Flea said. "You two chose the bride and groom, the location, and the rough date. We're taking care of the rest so you don't have to. It's what families do. Means you get to sit back and enjoy the thing. Now finish getting dressed and meet me downstairs."

ooOOOOoo

Harry stood in the clearing at the near end of the footbridge. Next to him, Flea stood on the bridge itself, slightly higher than Harry. Before them sat the guests: Mia, Dorea, Simon, Lady Winifred, John and Margaret Abbott, and Violetta Black.

"Don't be nervous," Flea said as Harry adjusted his boutonniere for the hundredth time. Harry lowered his hands to his side and looked over to where the path exited the woods. He could see movement, but not much more than that. Then Charlus appeared with Hermione on his arm, and the two walked towards the bridge.

Harry was instantly breathless. Hermione was gorgeous in a floor-length white gown. The sleeves and chest were covered in gauzy white lace. The veil covered her face and hair, which had been styled so it fell in light waves of chestnut from her head. The whole dress was set off by a bouquet of a variety of red flowers grasped in her hands. She looked more beautiful than she had at the Yule Ball.

When she and Charlus approached, he took her hand and placed it in Harry's before nodding to both of them and taking his seat next to Dorea.

"You look more beautiful than ever," Harry whispered to her. She beamed at him. Then they turned to face Flea together.

"Dear family," Flea began, "we are gathered together here to join together this man and this woman in matrimony in the eyes of man and magic. Before the ceremony continues, do either of you know any impediment, why you may not be joined together in matrimony?"

"No," the two teens said in unison.

Flea pulled a strip of white silk from his pocket and looked at Harry and Hermione.

"Please join hands and raise them up," he instructed. Harry and Hermione were already holding hands, and raised them up. Flea bound their wrists together with the silk. "Let this be the first step in binding you together as one." He pulled out his wand and wove an intricate pattern around their hands. Pure golden magic began to fall into the strip, making it glow. Flea lowered his wand and looked to Harry.

"Harry, will you have this woman to be your wedded wife, to live together in the estate of matrimony? Will you love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep yourself only unto her, so long as you both shall live?"

"Yes," Harry said, looking into Hermione's eyes.

"Hermione, will you have this man to be your wedded husband, to live together in the estate of matrimony? Will you obey him, and serve him, love, honour, and keep him, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep yourself only unto him, so long as you both shall live?"

"I will," Hermione vowed, returning Harry's gaze.

"Harry, please repeat after me… 'I Harry take you Hermione to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, as magic wills.'" He did.

"Hermione, please repeat after me… 'I Hermione take you Harry to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, till death us do part, as magic wills.'" She did.

Flea then wove another pattern over the binding with his wand, imbuing more magic into the binding. Finished, he unbound their hands, and put the strip back in his pocket. He then produced golden rings from another pocket. He handed one to each of them.

"Harry, place the ring upon her finger, and repeat after me… 'With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: with magic I swear my vows.'" He did. Hermione slipped the ring on Harry's finger without words. "Join hands, please," Flea instructed. They did, and he waved his wand a final time, imbuing the last of the magic into the binding. "Those whom magic has joined together let no man put asunder." Flea then lowered his wand, and looked to the assembled family.

"Harry and Hermione have consented together in wedlock, and have witnessed the same before magic and this company, and thereto have given and pledged their lives to each other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving of a ring, and by joining of hands; I pronounce that they be man and wife together, in the name of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter, and by the will of magic." He looked to Harry and Hermione. "Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Potter. Please kiss the bride." Harry pulled back the veil and did so enthusiastically to the applause of his family.

ooOOOOoo

Harry arrived at Peverell Court the next day with a pile of shrunken trunks. He carried them up to the Lord and Lady's master suite and deposited them on the bed. They were almost done moving Flea and Mia into their new home. Harry didn't think there were any more trips he'd have to make, so he decided to head back down to grab a glass of water from the kitchen.

He made his way through the house, and was about to enter the dining room to take the back stairs down to the kitchen when he heard voices on the other side of the door. Rather than burst in on something important, he stopped and listened.

"It was a little fast, don't you think?" a man's voice said. Harry recognized it as belonging to John Abbott.

"I'm fairly certain that once I put the idea in his head, and gave him the alternative, that he would've married her right then and there if he'd had a ring!" Flea's voice replied with a chuckle.

"Still, you could've made them wait a few weeks," John reasoned.

"That would've served no one's interests," Flea replied. "I wanted them married. What's the point in waiting?"

"So what happens now?" John asked.

"Dad didn't let me in on any larger plan, if he ever had one," Flea said. Harry could almost hear the shrug in his voice. "From where I'm standing, both our goals have been accomplished." Harry had heard enough. His own father… well, grandfather really, had manipulated him into getting married. He pushed open the door.

"And just what goals were those?" Harry growled out, stalking into the room. John raised an eyebrow and glanced at Harry. Flea sighed.

"Listening at the door, Harry?" he asked.

"I heard an interesting story," Harry shot back. "How you manipulated me into getting married as part of some scheme!"

"If you call your happiness a scheme, I suppose it is," Flea replied.

"Bollocks!" Harry shouted. "What did you really want?"

"I wanted you happy," Flea said, raising his voice at last. "How much longer were you going to string Hermione along as your girlfriend? How many years were you going to waste playing at happiness when you could have the real thing? Dad recommended that I help you along. It was one of the last things he said to me. So I did. Do I regret it? Not a bit! I didn't trick you into anything you didn't want to do. Did I manipulate you? Maybe a bit. I gave you a way out, knowing instead you'd do the right thing and marry that girl. She's the best thing that ever happened to you from what I can tell."

"I don't like being manipulated!" Harry shouted. "If you want me to do something, just bloody tell me, alright?"

"Fine," Flea said. "In that case: be happy, have loads of children, do what you want to do for a career, help out the family when we ask, and live to a ripe old age."

"Is that what you want?" Harry shot back.

"You're damned right it is," Flea replied fiercely. Then he calmed down. "Harry, you've graduated from Hogwarts. You're not a child any longer. It's time to enter adulthood. You've already selected your mate, the whole family could see it. I just helped you realize it. Now, you'll be living together on your own, starting a family and finding your way in the world, like all of us had to. You'll have a support network in us, but the choices you'll be making are yours to make. I wanted to set you up for success. When you married Hermione you got someone who would support you before all others. You'll need that… and she'll need you. Hers is the most important relationship you'll ever have. Don't muck it up by thinking I tricked you into it. I didn't. I just convinced you to do it sooner than you would've on your own by giving you a choice." He smiled as Harry calmed down. "Did you even talk to her before running off and buying that ring?"

"He didn't," Hermione said from the doorway. Harry whirled around, spying Hermione there. Her expression was unreadable.

"How long have you been there?" Harry asked. A ball of guilt grew in his stomach.

"Long enough," she said, leaning against the door frame. When he kept staring at her, she elaborated. "Long enough to know that Uncle Flea loves us both. Long enough to know you're still coming to grips with actually having a family that looks out for your best interests instead of a guardian who's in favour of some 'greater good'. Long enough to know that at least you can take a hint." She pushed off the door frame and walked over to Harry and wrapped him up in a hug. "Relax, Harry. I agree with Uncle Flea. I love you, and was overjoyed when you asked me to marry you, regardless of the reason. Like he said, you would've gotten there eventually, but I'm really glad you asked when you did. Now we don't have to live apart anymore."

"Thank you," Flea said.

"Now, we're done moving the new Lord and Lady into their manor, and our portkey leaves in an hour," Hermione soothed. "Let's go home, our honeymoon awaits!" With that, she grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him in a side-along apparition back to Edgewood.

ooOOOOoo

The gentle waves slapped against the sandy beach. The French Riviera was amazing to Harry. The couple had decided to take a muggle honeymoon, and were currently sunning themselves on a beach near Saint-Tropez.

The couple's first stop had been a Jaguar dealership, where Harry had purchased a 1949 XK120 sports car to fill the hole in the garage left when Flea took his 1939 Singer to Peverell Court. Harry had licensed it, and driven it to Dover, where they took the ferry to Calais, and enjoyed a long drive south through Arras, Paris, Lyon, and Marseilles.

The weather had been particularly good, and Harry and Hermione had stopped frequently to see the sights. He'd been interested in the World War I battlefields at Arras and Cambrai, and the World War II battlefields spread all along their path to Paris. She'd been captivated by the elegant French chateaux, spending many hours at Versailles, Fontainebleau, and the famous Chateau d'If, which served as inspiration for Alexandre Dumas' classic _the Count of Monte Cristo_.

"The house should be ready now," Harry said after glancing at his watch. Hermione looked over, shading her eyes.

"D'you wanna go move in?" she asked. Harry shrugged.

"Once we do, we can come back," he offered. "It just means that when we're done here, we can go straight to supper without having to worry about it." Hermione nodded and started to rise. Harry stayed down a moment longer, taking the opportunity to admire his new wife's shapely rear in her new bathing suit.

ooOOOOoo

The house was an old one, booked through a travel agent at the last minute. It sat just off a private beach just under a mile from the centre of Saint-Tropez. Harry and Hermione enjoyed sunbathing once they'd moved in, letting the light start to dwindle before they thought about eating. Rather than drive, they decided to walk back into town, and dined at l'Auberge Des Maures.

"I've only been here a day, and I'm in love with it already," Hermione said when they pushed back their dessert plates. Hermione raised a glass of wine to her lips. "Can we live here?" Harry looked at her, trying to discern her level of seriousness.

"I thought you'd been to France before," he said casually.

"I have," Hermione replied. "My parents brought me several times, but never to Saint-Tropez. We were always near Marseille, or Nice, or Paris, or up by Geneva for skiing. This place is different. It feels… like I could live here, you know?"

"Will it be the same in twenty years?" Harry asked.

"Probably not," Hermione admitted sadly. "This place will become a famous place for Hollywood actors and the jetsetters. It's expensive now, but it'll become almost astronomical in a few years. It was still popular when we were younger, but the elite had moved on, mostly."

"So… you're saying this place is ripe for investment?" Harry asked. The idea had popped into his head as Hermione had been describing the future. "Something along the lines of property development?"

"That's a great idea!" Hermione nearly squealed.

"Tell you what… Let's spend the next few days enjoying the beaches. We'll find out which ones are the best. Then, we go looking for the best views. I've got a lot of money sitting there doing nothing. I think we can buy up land on the cheap now, develop a few really posh houses, sell them to those Hollywood types, and maybe keep one for ourselves. It should see a good return on investment. Maybe dad'll even want to get in on it."

"Can we get a yacht too?" Hermione asked, winking.

"Whatever you want, 'Mione," he replied with a true smile.

ooOOOOoo

The days passed quickly after that. The couple would sleep in until nine or ten. They would usually start the day with a swim, followed by lunch at the house. After noon, they'd drive around the countryside, looking at various land, finding beaches and vistas. As the sun got too hot, they'd drive to a beach to cool off and relax before returning to Saint-Tropez for supper. Then they'd retire to their house for the night.

Amorous encounters were frequent, as one would expect with a newlywed couple on honeymoon. Harry and Hermione were averaging three orgasms per day each. Usually the urge would hit them in the morning and in the evening, though several times Harry or Hermione would feel the need while they were out, and Harry would pull the Jag off the road at a secluded spot and they would ravish each other surrounded by the sunshine and natural beauty of rural southern France.

They had just finished one such encounter and Hermione was relaxing in post-coital bliss, bent over the hood of their car. She sighed and inhaled, taking in the scent of the distant sea. Harry playfully swatted her behind, still largely clad in the swimsuit she was wearing, and pulled up his own suit from where it had bunched around his feet. She barely registered when he leaned against the car, but rolled over, stretching, stood and pulled her swimsuit back into place to cover herself. While she did, she looked out through the trees.

"Oh, Harry, look at that view!"

He looked up from where he was pulling his swim trunks back up, and saw what she did: through the trees he spotted the bright blue water of the Mediterranean. It looked to be some distance below them. Hermione took off into the trees, clad only in her suit, a light shirt, sandals, and a sun hat. Harry followed, wearing much the same. When he caught up to her, she was paused at the edge of a cliff, overlooking a narrow beach on the western edge of the Baie de Canebiers. He said nothing, approaching and wrapping his arms around her from behind as they both took in the view. "Here," she said. "This is where I want our house to be."

"Alright," Harry agreed. "It's beautiful."

ooOOOOoo

Harry and Hermione drove back into Saint-Tropez that afternoon and after some confusion found a real estate agent. He was short, older, and didn't speak much English. Harry convinced him to follow them to the property he wanted to buy and pointed it out. The agent replied that the property wasn't for sale, but he'd talk to the owner and get back to Harry.

"I hope it's not too expensive," Hermione said, eyeing the land.

Two days later, the agent left a note at the couple's house that he needed to talk to them. Harry and Hermione went there first thing the following morning.

"_Bonjour_," the man said, greeting them as they entered his office.

"_Bonjour_," Hermione replied. She was acting as the translator when needed, since she spoke the most French… Harry speaking none.

"I 'eard back from the owners," the agent said in heavily accented English. "Zey will not sell for less than two 'undred million Francs."

"Erm…" Harry hemmed. He pulled out a slip of paper and did some quick sums. F200,000,000 equalled just under £200,000, or around Ǥ40,000. "That should be fine," he said at last. "_Oui_."

"_C'est bon_!" the agent said, smiling. "I weel tell the owner and return to you wiz ze contract. Eet should be only a few days."

ooOOOOoo

The last Friday they were in France, the real estate agent took them out to the property after they'd signed the papers. They pulled up next to an old farm house with several outbuildings that were quite a ways from the land Harry had wanted to buy.

"Sorry, why are we here?" Harry asked when the agent turned off the car, an ancient Peugeot.

"Zis is ze property you purchased," the agent said, quirking an eyebrow at Harry.

"Wait," Harry said, suddenly worried. "I wanted to buy the land I showed you last week, not here!"

"_Oui_, you did," the agent replied, oblivious to Harry's concern.

"Hermione," Harry pleaded. "Help!" Hermione proceeded to have a short, but intense discussion with the agent in French, which ended with the agent reaching into his satchel and retrieving a plot drawing. He pointed to the drawing, and smiled.

"Zis is what you 'ave purchased," he said. Harry looked. The land on the drawing looked something like a chicken drumstick laid on its side. The northern border stretched along about a thousand yards of coastline, and marked as its southern boundary the Chemin des Salins. It was narrow on the east end, but on the west end, near Saint-Tropez, the road was about a thousand feet from the coast. He'd just bought a huge plot of land: almost 35 acres.

"I guess we have enough room for that development we'd planned," he said sheepishly. "I can't believe the land was that cheap!"

"I'm so excited!" Hermione exclaimed, jumping out of the car and running over to the house. Harry followed at a more sedate pace with a grin on his face. He watched as Hermione spun around, enjoying the sun and the air and her sense of joy. He felt the agent arrive next to him.

"Can you find us a contractor to build some houses for us?" Harry asked.

"_Oui_," the agent replied. "I know a few contractors." Harry pulled a receipt out of his pocket and wrote down the muggle address Edgewood used.

"Send me their particulars," he said. "I'll sound them out." The Frenchman took the address and nodded.

ooOOOOoo

The Jag sped north along the A6. Harry and Hermione were heading to Paris for one last night before returning to Britain. The wind whipped Harry's hair. Hermione's was hidden under a scarf, and she was wearing sunglasses, though the shadows were lengthening as the afternoon turned to evening. Harry thought she looked like she was born to live in the fifties, and he couldn't wait for them to get there.

"Do you want to hit up the Place Cachée?" he asked.

"Let's stay muggle," Hermione replied, leaning her head back to take full advantage of the convertible top. Harry grinned and nodded. He'd been researching Paris the last few days, trying to find the perfect place to stay. He'd settled on a place the day before.

It was growing dark when the Jag pulled up to the 18th century façade on the Place Vendôme. Without a word, Harry cut the engine and started to get out. Hermione looked up at the building and her eyes nearly bugged out of her head. Harry helped her out of the car after the door had been opened by a valet.

"Welcome to the Ritz," the valet said

"I might have called ahead…" Harry commented with a grin.

"Oh, you!" Hermione said playfully, swatting his arm.

Harry helped the bellhop remove the luggage from the trunk and went to check in. Hermione was marvelling at the décor and the people. When they got there, the room was exquisite. It wasn't the Imperial Suite, but it was still impressive, especially for 1949. After they'd unpacked Hermione used the en suite to freshen up.

"Would you like to head down to supper?" he asked as she emerged.

"Sure," Hermione replied.

They went down, but found the restaurant wasn't yet seating for supper. They detoured to Le Petit Bar for some drinks. Harry approached the bar with Hermione in tow.

"_Comment puis-je vous aider_?" the bartender asked. Harry looked at Hermione.

"I'll leave it to you," he said.

"_Deux quarante cinq Mouton Rothschilds, s'il vous plaît_," Hermione replied for them.

"That's a woman who knows her wine," an American voice said from a few stools down. Harry looked over and saw a large, heavyset gentleman with grey hair and a white beard. He watched Hermione glance over then do a double take as she recognized the man.

"You… You're…" she stammered in disbelief.

"Ernest Hemingway, at your service," the man replied, extending a hand. He seemed sad, but Harry couldn't tell if he was depressed, in his cups, or both.

"Oh my God!" she squealed. "I love your work. _For Whom the Bell Tolls_ was a masterpiece."

"Thank you," he said, smiling at last. "It's always nice to meet a fan, and such a beautiful fan at that." Harry frowned at the old man hitting on his wife, but let it slide. He had no idea who this guy was, but Hermione seemed over the moon to be meeting him.

"Harry," Hermione said enthusiastically, turning to him. "Mr. Hemingway was a reporter during the war. He was there for the Normandy invasion and the Battle of the Bulge." Harry wasn't surprised that Hermione knew that about the man. It did make him seem slightly more interesting.

"It was my third war," Hemingway said, "but it was the biggest, and the only way they'd let me come back to France was if I did it as a reporter." He chuckled. "So you're Brits, eh?"

"Yes," Hermione replied. "We're on our way back from our honeymoon."

"I met my wife in Britain during the war," Hemingway revealed offhandedly. "She's around here somewhere. Probably up in the room since the restaurant's not open yet. London's not as fascinating a place as Paris, but then again, practically nowhere is."

"We just fell in love with Saint-Tropez," Hermione said.

"The south is beautiful," Hemingway said, staring at Hermione for a moment. "I was stationed in Milan during the Great War. Then, well, I believe you know about my time in Spain if you read _For Whom the Bell Tolls_…"

"Of course," Hermione allowed, smiling.

Harry didn't know what to make of this conversation. He had no knowledge of this man that Hermione was gushing over except for what he picked up from their discussion. Aside from a feeling of abandonment from being left out, the man was charismatic enough that he made Harry feel jealous, despite the fact that they'd probably never see him again. The conversation wore on for another half an hour before the restaurant opened, with Harry becoming gradually more despondent at the prospect of continuing to listen to Hermione be chatted up by this old man who'd lived far more than he had. Finally Harry was able to pull Hermione away and they made their exit from the bar.

"Wow," Hermione said as they sat down to eat. "I can't believe we just ran into Ernest Hemingway! He's one of my favourite authors."

"I'm glad, 'Mione," Harry smiled weakly. He picked up the menu to distract himself.

"What's wrong?" she asked. When he looked up, he could see she was concerned.

"He… I didn't like him," Harry said at last.

"Why not?"

"'Mione, he was chatting up my wife!" Harry said with exasperation. That gave Hermione pause as she considered what he'd just said. He could see she was actually thinking over the entire conversation they'd had.

"Oh, my God," Hermione said at last. "I'm so sorry. I didn't even realize."

"It's okay," Harry shrugged. "I guess I should expect it with you as my wife."

"It's not okay… Wait, what do you mean by that?"

"'Mione, you're beautiful," Harry said, smiling at last. "Of course blokes're going to chat you up. I just need to be there to make sure they keep their hands off you."

"This ring says I'm yours forever, Harry," she replied, holding up her hand. "Nothing will change that, and I'll never betray you. You've made me so happy. I love you with all my heart."

"And I love you," Harry smiled. "Shall we eat?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3—Summer Fun**

Harry and Hermione were enjoying a sunny July 30th in Diagon Alley. It was both a relief and a disappointment to be back from their honeymoon, but they had business to attend, so they found themselves sitting at an outdoor table at the ice cream parlour not-yet-named Florean Fortesque's. Harry looked over at the sign and wondered when Mr. Fortesque would be buying Irene's Icy Indulgences. He was just about to comment on it, when he heard his name called from across the Alley. He and Hermione both looked over to see Minerva McGonagall—no longer so wee as she'd been as a firstie—waving. She approached with an older woman Harry guessed was Mrs. McGonagall. She looked almost like McGonagall when she was a professor, only younger.

"Hi, Minnie!" Harry called as she pulled her mother over. He stood as they arrived. Minnie had all the coltish grace of a thirteen-year-old who'd hit her growth spurt. Her black hair was longer, but coifed and partially hidden by a fancy hat.

"Harry! Hermione! How're yeh?" Minnie's accent hadn't abated, though it'd only been two years since they'd met her. "This's me Maw."

"It's nice to meet you, Mrs. McGonagall," Harry said, extending his hand. Mrs. McGonagall shook it.

"Minerva's told us all about you two," Mrs. McGonagall replied with a smile. Her accent was far more refined than Minnie's. It was definitely the Scottish version of upper crust. "I can't thank you enough for what you've done for her."

"It was no problem, ma'am," Harry demurred. "Would you care to join us?" Mrs. McGonagall was about to respond when Minnie jumped in.

"Why're yeh so tan, Harry?"

"We just got back from three weeks on the Azure Coast," he responded.

"Were yeh on holiday together?" Minnie pressed, noting they were both tan.

"Our honeymoon," Hermione informed the girl with a smile.

"Yeh're merrit?!" Minnie practically shouted, attracting some attention from other patrons.

"Yes, right after school let out," Harry nodded.

"I haird aboot the scrap at Profayssor Dumbledore's funeral," Minnie commented, recalling the public events of late June. "Ah'm so sorry aboot yehr seanair."

"My what?"

"Oops," Minnie blushed. "Ah meant yehr granaidh… yehr gramps."

"Yes," Mrs. McGonagall added, apologetically. "We were all saddened to hear of the loss of Lord Henry. He was such a force for good in our world."

"Thank you, ma'am," Harry replied. "And thanks Minnie. I miss him too."

"Please give Lord Fleamont our best," Mrs. McGonagall said. "We must be off to Mr. Dunbar's. Minerva needs new clothes for the next school year." Harry nodded. Dunbar's was the premier clothes shop du jour. It was located where Madam Malkin's would be in the 1990s.

"I will," Harry nodded. "It was nice meeting you, Mrs. McGonagall. We'll see you later, Minnie." Handshakes and waves were exchanged, and Harry and Hermione were left in peace for about thirty seconds.

The McGonagalls were barely out of sight when the couple were joined by Professor Silver and Professor Yates. They looked substantially similar to the way they looked in school, but were dressed casually, like Harry and Hermione. Silver wore a light set of grey robes over a white button down and khaki trousers. Yates wore sky blue robes over a matching blouse and skirt combination.

Harry had yet to sit down, and used the opportunity to greet the two professors. Then everyone took their seats.

"We received your letters," Professor Yates began, looking first at Hermione and then at Harry.

"Frankly, we've been expecting them," Professor Silver added. "Though with the revelation that you'd both been awarded masteries in Transfiguration that expectation had waned after the end of June."

"Are you saying you won't accept us as students?" Hermione asked.

"On the contrary," Professor Yates replied. "It makes you more desirable as a candidate, but also less likely that you would apply. Having received your requests, however, I for one, am more than happy to accept you as an apprentice."

"As am I, Mr. Potter," Professor Silver added.

"That brings us to logistics," Yates said. "Miss Granger…"

"Mrs. Potter," Hermione corrected immediately. A broad smile spread across the professor's face.

"Congratulations the both of you," she said. "In that case, Mrs. Potter, having already undertaken a Transfiguration mastery, you have a general idea of the sort of work that's required and the sort of knowledge we'll provide. I can say that the structure of requirements for a Charms mastery aren't different than a Transfiguration mastery, though obviously the focus is Charms instead of Transfiguration. So you'll be teaching first years Charms, researching and learning advanced Charms, and creating your own Charm."

"The Defence mastery is similar, but different," Silver informed Harry. "You'll be teaching first years Defence, and researching and learning advanced Defence techniques. You'll also be required to demonstrate the ability to successfully defeat dark or dangerous people or creatures."

"Does slaying a basilisk count?" Harry asked. Professor Silver started.

"Is that how you got a basilisk fang two years ago?" he asked, leaning forward. Harry nodded.

"I can show you a memory of me fighting it," Harry offered.

"I'd like that very much," Silver replied, looking much too eager for a nearly fifty-year-old.

"If Thomas is finished drooling over the prospect of seeing your memory, we have more to discuss," Yates said. Tom blew a raspberry at her, but she continued undaunted. "You will each be afforded an office in which to work, however, unlike last year you will not be allowed to reside in the castle. As graduates you're both outside the house structure, and since you're not faculty, you are barred from staying in the staff wing."

"I'd suggest getting a flat in Hogsmeade," Silver advised. "It's only a one minute broom flight away, especially the way you fly." He nodded at Harry.

"We actually already have a house in Hogsmeade," Harry said. "Professor Dumbledore left it to me in his will."

"Splendid," Yates smiled. "Finally, since you're not students or staff, you will not be taking the Hogwarts Express, nor will you be required to attend feasts or other meals. Should you attend meals, you are required to eat at one of the house tables. Your sole responsibilities will be to us and to those first year students you'll be teaching."

"Dress," Silver continued once Yates had paused. "Dress is professional. You should dress as if you were a professor. You've seen what we wear."

"We'd like you to present yourselves at Hogwarts on August twenty-ninth," Yates said. "That's the Monday before the start of term. We'll begin our instruction at that time, and prepare you for the subjects you'll be teaching. Do you have any questions?"

"No, professor," Hermione said, shaking her head.

"Hermione, you're an adult now. When we're alone, please call me Victoria," Professor Yates said.

"And I'm Thomas, Harry," Silver added. Harry and Hermione both nodded, unsure what to say.

"Thank you for taking us on," Hermione said at last.

"It was our pleasure," Yates replied, rising. She shook Hermione's hand as Silver did Harry's, and they left together.

"Well, that's the next year sorted," Harry said with a smile. "Shall we go to Gringotts? Og was most insistent that I come by to be appointed Lord Gryffindor. With all the excitement of getting married and what not, I completely forgot about the whole thing."

"Well, we don't want to keep the nice goblin waiting," Hermione replied, equally happy. Together, they rose and set off for Gringotts.

ooOOOOoo

At precisely one o'clock the next afternoon, the floo flared, and Neville Longbottom stepped out.

"Happy Birthday, mate!" he called out when he saw Harry. He turned and helped Marina Abbott as she came through. Together they went and greeted the birthday boy. The family room at Edgewood was already full of family. Flea and Mia were talking with Charlus and Dorea. Simon was telling Violetta about some adventure he'd had, and John and Margaret Abbott were sitting with Lady Winifred on the couch.

"'Lo, Nev… Marina," Harry said, shaking their hands. Hermione gave Marina a hug.

"Thanks for having us," Neville replied warmly as Marina waved to her grandparents. "Are we the first?"

"Except for family," Harry let him know.

"Congratulations, by the way!" Neville blurted out. "I wasn't expecting to get that news in an owl this summer. Maybe next summer, but… wow!"

"Sweet Merlin, look at the size of that rock!" Marina said after finding Hermione's hand. She reached down and pulled up the hand in question, and Marina studied the ring for a good minute and a half. As she dropped the ring she looked pointedly at Neville and said simply, "Get cracking mister." Neville was spared from having to utter a reply by the floo flaring again. Neville and Marina moved aside, to be replaced by John King and Kathleen Hall, another Hogwarts couple.

The procession grew, as they were joined by Margaret Droope, George Wood and his girlfriend Patricia Williams, Professor Silver, Professor Yates, Sam and Elizabeth Abbott and their son Warren, and Alphard Black and his girlfriend Ann Parker.

John, Kathleen, Margaret, and George had been friends for two years, and Patricia was welcomed as a fellow Gryffindor. The extra Abbotts were Marina's parents and brother, and were welcomed as family. Alphard and Ann were an anomaly. Alphard, a Slytherin, had taken part in an ill-advised attack against Harry in their sixth year, but had realized the error of his ways fairly quickly, and a détente had quickly formed. In their seventh year, Alphard sought out Harry, and he eventually joined the Gryffindor's study group in the library and Room of Requirement. Ann, a Ravenclaw, had come as part of the package after Christmas that year, when the two began dating. She struck up a friendship with Hermione and Margaret. The two brainy Gryffindors had found a kindred spirit in Ann.

After drinks were served, Hermione clanked a spoon against her glass to get everyone's attention.

"Now that we're all here, I'd like to start with presents," she said. When Harry moved to object she held up her hand to silence him. "It's important that we do this first, as the rest of the party relies on one of the gifts." People applauded. "So… who wants to go first?"

Harry began opening a cascade of presents. The first was a new Cleansweep 5 from Lady Winifred. Apparently, she'd been impressed by his quidditch skills and wanted him to continue with that. Next, Harry opened a small card from Flea and Mia. He was surprised when he pulled the card out of the envelope and a house elf appeared directly in front of him.

"I is Mipsy," the elf said, as though that explained everything. Harry looked at Flea who gestured to the card. It explained that since they were both doing masteries, there would be little time to care for their two homes, so Mipsy would be helping out. The card suggested bonding the elf after the party concluded. He put the card back in the envelope and looked at Hermione to see how she was taking things. She leaned in close.

"We _will_ be treating her as family," Hermione said very firmly. Harry nodded swiftly.

"Of course." Then he turned to Mipsy. "You're welcome to stay until the end of the party, and we'll bond with you then, alright?" Mipsy beamed and sat on the couch Harry directed her to. Harry then proceeded to open more gifts. The rest of the family gave him clothes.

While he was opening them, he noticed Flea call to Sam and the older elf appeared. When Harry was done opening the rest of the family's gifts, Sam reappeared holding a portrait. Harry recognized the subject immediately. It was Lord Henry.

"I wanted you to have this too," Flea said as Sam presented him the portrait. Harry glanced to where Lady Winifred was getting very teary eyed. "You got on best with dad, after all."

"Well," the portrait grumped. "What did you expect? He's smarter than you!" The whole room laughed at that.

"Thanks, dad," Harry replied to Flea when everyone had settled down. "Sam, could you please hang Lord Henry in the library?" Sam nodded and popped away. "It'll be nice to get his advice again," Harry observed.

Family gifts done, Harry started in on friend gifts. Most of these were books or sweets or accessories, which Harry appreciated, but had little sentimental value. Harry thanked them all the same. Eventually, there was only one gift left: Hermione's.

At last, Harry reached for the simply wrapped present, about a foot square. Harry shook the box, trying to guess what it was, but it made no sound. It was heavy, but not so heavy he couldn't lift it easily.

"Oh, will you just open it already?" Hermione asked when he'd taken more than thirty seconds to try to discern what it was. He grinned at her and ripped the paper off. It was a wooden box with speakers on either side and a lens on the front. On the top were three buttons, also wood.

"What is this, Hermione?" he asked, holding it up.

"Do you remember what you got me for my birthday sixth year?" she asked. His eyes bugged out. "Films?" he guessed. She grinned and nodded. Harry looked at Flea and saw him grinning too. That meant he'd helped. Lord Henry probably had too. "I've got a room set up in the basement if you'd like to try it out? Sam's already got popcorn and drinks ready."

"Let's go!" Harry cried in excitement. Five minutes later all the guests were seated on couches facing a screen in the basement and Harry pushed the big button in the centre of the box. The projector started and Harry saw a title card that read _Back to the Future_. "Maybe a different one?" he suggested, not wanting to betray they were from the future.

"Hit one of the other buttons," Hermione instructed. Harry did so, and flipped past _the Terminator_, _the Empire Strikes Back_, _Jurassic Park_, _Home Alone_, and _Apollo 13_, before settling on _Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark_.

"How many movies are on here?" Harry asked as he settled in beside Hermione.

"About a hundred," Hermione replied quietly. "Mostly from the 80's and 90's, but some are older. I think the oldest is from the 60's. Of course, I could only add films I'd seen. Fortunately, my parents were pretty open-minded about films, so I saw a bunch, even those rated eighteen."

"Shhh…" Neville said from Harry's other side as the film started. Harry leaned back in the couch, and Hermione cuddled into him. _Indiana Jones_ turned out to be a good choice. Since it was set pre-World War II there was nothing glaringly post-1950 in it. Since most of those present hadn't seen a muggle film before, the level of special effects and the various actors who were not yet alive wouldn't be questioned. Harry had selected the film because it was a classic action-adventure film, which appealed to him.

By the time the credits rolled, the rest of the viewing party was in awe. Simon, especially, was wide-eyed.

"That was wicked!" he crowed as Harry turned on the lights. Harry and Hermione looked at each other, suddenly missing Ron. Simon had said it almost exactly as their third friend had, but he was left behind in 1996, or would be. No one who was aware really knew. "I liked the way the light dementors sucked out the bad guys' souls! Are there really light dementors like that?"

"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "That was just made up for the film."

"Remember, muggles don't know about magic or dementors," Dorea said, trying to get him to calm down. "To them, magic is make believe, so they make things up that sometimes aren't actually real."

"Like light dementors?"

"Like light dementors," she confirmed.

"Alright," Flea said, standing and stretching. "Who's ready for cake?" The entire room chorused their agreement and began to leave. Hermione deftly switched off the projector just as _Toy Story_ started playing.

Once they were back upstairs and eating the delicious chocolate sponge cake that Sam had made, the party again broke into groups. Harry and his friends appropriated one side of the family room, while the family pitched camp on the other side.

"So you're both going back to Hogwarts in September?" Kathleen was asking Hermione. She nodded. "Professor Dumbledore left Harry his place in Hogsmeade, so we'll be staying there, or commuting from here to there via floo. We haven't decided yet. We can't stay at the castle, though."

"Do you think I could use Dumbledore's place as a floo stop?" Neville asked Harry. "Professor Beery accepted me as a masters candidate as well, but the Longbottoms don't have a house nearby. I was going to have to rent a flat or something."

"Sure," Harry agreed quickly. "I'll add you to the wards. The place has three bedrooms, too. So, if you ever need a place to kip for the night, just ask."

"Tell them about the lordship," Hermione whispered to Harry while Neville and Marina continued the conversation. Harry looked at her questioningly. They hadn't told anyone outside the family about that yet. "They're your friends. They should know first. It'll all come out when you take up your seat on the Wizengamot later this month anyway." Harry nodded at last.

"I do have some small news," Harry said when the conversation had slowed a bit.

"Is this like the small news that you got married without any warning?" John asked. "Or like the news that you're both masters candidates and inherited a home in Hogsmeade?"

"I'm the new Lord Gryffindor," Harry said simply.

"WHAT!?" they all shouted nearly together.

"I was able to summon the Sword of Gryffindor," Harry said. "It was one of the swords I found in the Room of Requirement. It disappeared, but when I thought about it, I was able to call it back." This was only a bit of a lie, but Harry didn't want to tell them about the Chamber of Secrets. "Professor Dumbledore said that by being able to call the Sword, it recognized me as the heir of Gryffindor. When I presented that to the goblins, they recognized the claim. Since I was already seventeen, they made me Lord Gryffindor."

"Wow," John said, absolutely flabbergasted. "That's a lot to take in."

"Quite," was Alphard's contribution.

"Wait… You're a proper lord?" Kathleen asked.

"Earl of Monar," Harry informed them. "Feudal lord of Hogsmeade and Hogwarts, entitled to collect rents, and duty bound to defend my land. It comes with a vote on the Wizengamot, as well."

"Bloody hell," George swore in awe.

"You certainly do surprise, milord," Marina agreed with a grin.

"For you lot I'm still Harry," he corrected. "Leave that milord tosh to the others. Please." After that, conversation settled down. Harry drifted over to the family for a while, and got caught up with the goings on of magical society, but re-joined his friends after a half an hour. Dinner was lively and fun, and after, the party broke up. Neville was the last of the friends to leave, and Harry told him to stop by later in the summer, and he'd take him up to the Hogsmeade house. The family departed soon after, leaving Harry and Hermione in an empty house… almost.

"Mipsy?" Harry called out. She popped into view.

"Sir called?"

"Are you ready to bond with us?"

"Yes, please!" She held out her hands looking for all the world like an elfish toddler. Harry and Hermione each took one. "Mipsy swears to serve Harry Potter and Hermione Potter and their house, and to keep their secrets always. Now you say, 'we take you as our elf.'"

"We take you as our elf," Harry and Hermione said together. There was a flash of light and the bonding was complete.

"I is now your elf," Mipsy said.

"That's fine, Mipsy," Harry said. "As a member of our family, I want you to choose one of the bedrooms for you to have. There are two besides the master that can be used. We're keeping the third as an office. Please pick one of them as your own."

"Oh, no, Master Harry! Elves not be sleeping in wizard beds," Mipsy protested.

"First, I'm just Harry," Harry corrected. "And Hermione would like you to call her that. Please don't use Master and Mistress. We're not your bosses, we're your family. Second, why can't elves sleep in normal beds?"

"It isn't proper!" Mipsy supplied.

"It is in this house," Harry stated. "You will select one of the bedrooms for your own. You will accept our hospitality, and use our vaults to purchase outfits for your use. If you need anything you will buy it without asking so long as it costs less than one hundred galleons. If it costs more, you will ask Hermione or I, and we'll review the purchase first. If you feel you've transgressed, come to us. You will not punish yourself. Do you understand these conditions?"

"Yes Harry," Mipsy said, slightly sad.

"Don't be sad, Mipsy," Hermione said, bending down. "We're happy you're here, and we want to treat you like we treat each other. We want you to be a family member, not a servant."

"Hermione is too nice," Mipsy said, bursting into tears. Hermione quickly hugged the elf, which shocked her even more. After a few minutes, Mipsy calmed down, and let Hermione lead her upstairs to the bedrooms so she could pick one out.

ooOOOOoo

"So, I hear you're a lord," Lord Henry's portrait said, welcoming Harry to the library.

"That's right, Lord Henry," Harry agreed, walking up to the painting.

"I think you can just call me Henry now, Harry," Lord Henry replied. "What with you being a lord yourself, and me being a portrait."

"Okay," Harry agreed. The Henry in the portrait was younger than the Henry Harry remembered. "How old are you?"

"I was painted in 1916," Henry supplied. "I was fifty. I do have all my memories up until June, though. The magic that created the portrait provides that."

"It doesn't work like a horcrux then?"

"Similar, I think, but different," Henry replied. "Obviously, there's no soul piece in the portrait, however, I was linked to my consciousness, and was able to absorb memories from the real me."

"So the consciousness aspect is the same, but no soul piece," Harry restated.

"I suppose so," Henry shrugged. "I've never seen a horcrux before, only read about them. Only a monster would create one."

"True," Harry agreed. "So," he continued, switching gears, "why are you here? I don't buy the bit about liking me better."

"I suppose I see a bit of myself in you," Henry replied, sitting in the chair in his portrait. "I love Flea, but he never really needed me. He's a researcher, a scientist, a potioneer. He'll be involved in politics, but he already knows a bit about that, and doesn't need my help."

"So I need your help?" Harry asked. It wasn't said unkindly, more inquisitively.

"I can train you to be what you're meant to be."

"What's that?" Harry asked.

"A leader of men," Henry replied. "You've been a leader all your life, you just haven't realized it yet. You led your friends to fight Tom Riddle when you were eleven. You've been doing what you've had to do, both alone, and with people behind you, ever since."

"That was…"

"Because you had to. I know," Henry said waving it off. "You're not understanding. You're someone people will follow. You're someone people will listen to. You're someone powerful enough to bend things to your will. Alphard Black didn't become your friend because he likes your haircut. You impressed the hell out of him. You didn't get five other schoolchildren to follow you into the Department of Mysteries because they wanted a free tour. They trusted you to lead them in battle. That's what you inspire in others, Harry: confidence and trust in your abilities."

"I'm not that good," Harry waivered.

"Have your NEWT scores come yet?" Harry nodded. "How many Os did you get?"

"All Os," Harry replied.

"And you managed to gain a Transfiguration mastery at the same time," Henry added. "That's damned impressive. Now you're going to pile on a Defence mastery as well!"

"That's all learning though," Harry countered. "That has nothing to do with leadership."

"And yet, now you're Lord Gryffindor, Earl of Monar, feudal lord of Hogsmeade and a member of the Wizengamot," Henry snorted. "Sounds like you're a leader whether you want it or not. Now are you going to accept my counsel?" Harry nodded.

ooOOOOoo

Harry and Flea stood outside the door to the Wizengamot in plain black robes. Two Aurors guarded it. Mia and Hermione had already gone in to sit in the visitors' gallery about ten minutes earlier. There was a rap on the door from the other side.

"They're ready for you now," one of the Aurors said, and they opened the door for the two Potter men. Flea led Harry into the chamber, and the two men stood before the raised seating where the Wizengamot met.

"Fleamont Potter, you request to be seated on the Wizengamot?" the Chief Warlock asked. It wasn't anyone Harry recognized. He knew that Dumbledore had resigned as Chief Warlock in January and a new Chief Warlock had been invested, but Harry knew nothing about the man.

"I do," Flea replied with authority.

"On what grounds?" the Chief Warlock asked. This was as Harry had been instructed.

"On the grounds that my father, Lord Henry Potter, was a member, and has passed," Flea replied. "By right his seat is mine as Lord Potter."

"Does anyone present challenge the right of Lord Potter to assume his seat?" the Chief Warlock asked. No one moved. The Chief Warlock nodded and moved down to in front of Flea. "I welcome you to the Wizengamot, Lord Potter." He tapped his wand on Flea's robes and they changed to a deep maroon colour with a stylized 'W' on the breast. "Take your familial seat." He extended a hand, and gently pulled Flea forward and up to the seating area, returning to the Chief Warlock's spot.

"Harry Potter," the Chief Warlock said, turning to Harry as Flea got seated. "You request to be seated on the Wizengamot?" There was a murmur running through the other members. It was quite unusual to have a father-son team sitting together.

"I do," Harry replied, trying to emulate the authority of Flea's response.

"On what grounds?" the Chief Warlock asked again. While the Chief Warlock had been informed as to the circumstances, none of the other members had. Harry took a breath.

"On the grounds that I have been recognized by magic herself as Lord Gryffindor, Earl of Monar, and feudal lord of Hogsmeade and Hogwarts," Harry replied with as much conviction as he possessed. There was total silence, but the mouths of half the assembly were gaping open.

"Does anyone present challenge the right of Lord Gryffindor to assume his seat?" the Chief Warlock asked. Before he was even through talking a half dozen members were on their feet ready to challenge Harry's claim. The first to speak, however, was a man whose relation Harry couldn't have missed if he tried. The long blond hair, delicate French features, and serpent-headed cane left no doubt that this man was a Malfoy.

"While I don't doubt the boy before us believes his claim to be true," the man sneered, dripping with false sincerity, "the fact remains that no Lord Gryffindor has ever sat on this esteemed body, and that there has not been a Lord Gryffindor in over a thousand years. Aside from that, Mr. Potter's family already has a seat on the Wizengamot, as does his mother's family. It would be imprudent of us to seat the lad before his proper time."

"Hear, hear!" shouted several members. The Chief Warlock turned back to Harry as Malfoy took his seat.

"Lord Gryffindor, can you prove your claim?" he asked, not unkindly.

Harry nodded, closed his eyes and extended his right hand above his head, willing the Sword of Gryffindor to appear there. He could feel the weight as it arrived, and looked not at the sword glinting over his head, but directly at the Chief Warlock. With a flip of the handle he turned the sword point down, thrusting it into the floor. A burst of magic shot away from the sword as it dug into the stone. Harry rested his hands on the pommel as he surveyed the rest of the Wizengamot, most of whom were visibly impressed by the display.

"The Sword of Gryffindor responds to my call," Harry said. "The goblins have examined the artefact and are satisfied that it is authentic." He reached into his robes, pulling out several pieces of parchment. "These are the letters patent issued to me by His Majesty, George VI, King of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland declaring me Earl of Monar in the peerage of Scotland. I also have documents from Gringotts declaring me Lord Gryffindor, and historical records proving that Lord Gryffindor sat on the Wizards' Council." Harry advanced and presented the documents to the Chief Warlock for examination. The Chief Warlock had already received copies of the same documents earlier in the month, which allowed Harry to be there making his request.

"Does Lord Gryffindor satisfy the Wizengamot?" the Chief Warlock asked.

"Anything can be conjured," Malfoy said lazily from his seat. "It is known that the boy is a Transfiguration master, therefore it is not beyond his skill to do so. I request that the documents and sword be verified as… authentic, I believe was the word used, by the Wizengamot."

Harry seethed inwardly. Bloody Malfoy, trying to ruin things. Outwardly, Harry tried to project an air that he was calm and collected; not in the least perturbed by Malfoy's request.

"They have already been verified by me," the Chief Warlock replied, his patience beginning to wear thin.

"Perhaps they might be examined more closely now by Lord Black, Lord Crouch, Lord Greengrass, Mr. MacMillan, and Mr. Weasley to determine their authenticity," Harry offered. "It shouldn't take long, I have no connection to any of the men mentioned, and they represent all factions. I will accept their verdict."

"A fair compromise," the Chief Warlock stated. Malfoy momentarily looked like he was going to argue, but instead adopted a relaxed attitude, leaned back in his chair, and waved carelessly to demonstrate his acceptance. Harry saw through his charade, grinned inwardly, and looked back at the Chief Warlock.

Verifying the documents and the sword were the work of minutes, and all concluded that they were true.

"Having proven his case beyond a doubt, are there any objections to Lord Gryffindor taking his seat on this august body?" the Chief Warlock asked as the ad hoc committee returned to their seats. Malfoy stayed silent, as did the other dark families who had leapt up to protest earlier.

The Chief Warlock again rose and stood in front of Harry. "I welcome you to the Wizengamot, Lord Gryffindor." He tapped his wand on Harry's robes and they changed to a deep maroon colour with a stylized 'W' on the breast. "Take your familial seat." Harry followed the Chief Warlock without any prompting, and took a vacant seat next to Flea. Harry had won his first political battle.

ooOOOOoo

When the meeting concluded, Harry followed Flea out of the Wizengamot chamber. They were greeted by several members, including the Lord Black, Sirius, the great-grandfather of the Sirius Black who was Harry's godfather. Lord Black was an imposing man in his seventies, with a hard face, thinning white hair, and piercing eyes. Harry was incongruously greeted with a smile, however, which accompanied a friendly handshake.

"A pleasure to meet you at last, Lord Gryffindor," Lord Black said. "I've been hearing great things about you from my great nephew. And I must admit, it's nice to see someone put Malfoy in his place."

"Thank you, Lord Black," Harry replied. "I heard good things about you from Lord Henry as well. As for Malfoy…" Harry gave a resigned shrug.

"A future Minister for Magic, you are!" Lord Black crowed, wheezing slightly from the exertion afterwards. "I hope I'm around for quite some time. I think I'd enjoy seeing your rise."

"I'm not particularly interested in rising," Harry shrugged again. "But thank you for the compliment." Lord Black chuckled.

"And that's why your rise will be so interesting to watch," Lord Black pointed out. "The reluctant Minister!" He sighed. "I've detained you long enough. I look forward to continuing our discussion at a future Ministry function. Good day. And to you, Lord Potter."

"Good day, Lord Black," Harry and Flea replied.

"Politics are complicated," Harry sighed once Lord Black had disappeared. He resumed following Flea to the lifts.

"How so?" Flea asked.

"The Blacks are blood purists, but Lord Black seems nice enough," Harry reasoned. "He almost seems like he wants to be my friend."

"Lord Black was impressed by you," Flea told him. "Perhaps more so than he's been impressed by members of his own family."

"But Alphard…"

"Alphard is not going to become Lord Black unless a great number of people die soon," Flea pointed out. "Lord Black's son, Arcturus, will be the next Lord Black. His son, Orion, will be the Lord Black after that. Lord Black's nephew Pollux is in line after that. Only then would Alphard be considered. Arcturus, Orion, and Pollux are far darker and more power-hungry than Lord Black. Pollux is especially dark. Arcturus is especially power-hungry."

"Orion seemed okay," Harry observed.

"Orion is a blood purist through and through," Flea commented. "He was polite to you because you're a pureblood, or he thinks you are."

"He's also not a very strong-willed person," Harry said, remembering that Walburga was always the man of their relationship. Flea pushed the lift button as they arrived.

"Most of the purebloods are fairly weak-willed," Flea sighed. "That's what makes them so dangerous. One strong-willed pureblood—one dark, politically motivated, strong-willed pureblood—can control a tenth of the population of Wizarding Britain at a whim."

"That sounds bad." Before them the door to one of the lifts opened.

"Wait until Arcturus becomes the Lord Black," Flea said gently as they stepped into the lift. "When that happens, Alphard will either tow the family line or be disowned, and that would see him fall on hard times." As the lift door closed, Flea pushed the button for the lobby. The lift shuddered into motion.

"Then maybe we should try to give him a soft landing," Harry suggested.

"You should talk this over with dad's portrait," Flea commented.

"Why?"

"Because of the political aspect of it," Flea replied.

"What?"

"Think about it," Flea said. "You're planning to help a member of another house abandon that house."

"I'm planning to help a friend in need," Harry countered.

"That's not how the next Lord Black will see it," Flea suggested. "He'll see you helping someone he doesn't want helped. It will turn the Blacks against you, and by association, the rest of the Potters. The Abbotts and Longbottoms will also be affected because of your relations with them."

"So you're saying I shouldn't do it?" Harry asked as the lift arrived and the two stepped off.

"I didn't say that," Flea said firmly, making for the public floo access. "I said you should talk to dad's portrait about it first. It's not like you won't have time. Lord Black's not going to kick off tomorrow. I'm saying, a plan now can mitigate or at least anticipate a disaster later."

"Why can't you help me?" Harry wondered.

"I _am_ helping you," Flea pointed out. "Telling you where to look for the answer is helping. I'm just as much a novice in politics as you are. Dad will be able to tell you if it's a good idea or if it'll sink us."

"Oh," Harry said, realizing that Flea was correct. "I just thought…"

"You thought because I was older, I'd understand politics far better than you?" Flea laughed. "Not bloody likely. Dad's the political genius. Why do you think he told me to defer to you?" Harry looked up, surprised. He'd thought Lord Henry was joking. "He knew you'd be more influential than me. He thought you'd be better at politics than me. You're a lord with a Wizengamot seat decades before me. Like Lord Black said, you'll be a powerhouse someday, and that day is soon. Best start learning." He stopped as they arrived at the public floo and put his hand on Harry's shoulder.

"The Potters, the Abbotts—even the Longbottoms—will rally around you. As you grow, more families will join you. You can be a force for good in our world. We need that with Dumbledore and dad gone. Your morals are right. Your convictions make you strong. Your knowledge makes you exceptional. You will lead us. But you need to prove yourself first. Alphard Black seems like a good place to start." He nodded, threw some floo powder into the fire and said "Peverell Court!" before stepping into the flames, leaving Harry standing there, staring at where Flea used to be.

A minute later, Harry stepped out of the floo at Edgewood and made for the library. He pushed open the door and made right for the portrait.

"Lord Henry, I've a problem…"


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4—Under New Management**

Harry and Hermione walked to the castle together on Monday, September 5, 1949. They hurried up the path, holding quickly conjured umbrellas to fend off the heavy rain falling. It still took ten minutes for them to travel from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts, as thunder rumbled overhead.

When they entered the gloomy confines of the castle Harry vanished the umbrellas and the two cast drying charms on their robes. They were about to head off to their offices when the door to the great hall burst open and students began pouring out. The noise increased dramatically, but they still heard the shouted greeting over it all.

"Harry! Hermione!" They looked over and saw Minnie running over to them. She'd proven to be shy around almost anyone but them. She didn't make friends easily, and Harry sometimes wondered if her possession by Tom Riddle would change who she'd become as a person. It was definitely something he'd be on the lookout for.

"'Lo Minnie," Harry said when she arrived. "Ready for third year?"

"Ah finally get ta go ta Hogsmeade!" she said, bursting with excitement.

"It's a nice change of pace," Hermione allowed. "What about your classes?"

"Ah'm takin' runes, arithmancy an' care o' magical creatures," Minnie informed them.

"Strong choices," Hermione said with a smile. "They'll be a lot of work, but I know you're up to the challenge."

"Ah need ta be if Ah'm gonna become the Transfiguraytion proffayssor," Minnie said firmly.

"You'll be fine," Harry said, clapping her on the shoulder. "But you need to get to class. It wouldn't do to be late the first day."

"Yer aff yer heid. It's the saycond day," she snorted.

"But you're having some classes for the first time today," Harry pointed out. "I know I do."

"Yeh're teachin'?" she asked.

"I've got first year Defence today," Harry acknowledged. "I'll be teaching it all year. Hermione's doing first year Charms, but she doesn't teach that until Thursday."

"You'll teach when you do your mastery as well," Hermione informed her. "First years only, but still." Minnie merely nodded at this knowledge. "So Harry has to run along, and I need to as well. I don't have to teach today, but I still have research I've been working on."

"Already?" she asked.

"Yep," Harry said. "We've been here a week already. Now we really do need to get going."

"Ugh," Minnie said with disgust. "Aye, right." She waved again and ran off after the crowds of students.

"I wonder when she'll refine that accent," Harry said as they mounted the stairs to their offices.

ooOOOOoo

"I am Professor Silver, the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor," Silver said to a wide-eyed group of Gryffindor firsties. "This is Mr. Potter. He is a masters candidate in Defence. He graduated last year, and holds the highest grades ever recorded in both the Defence OWL and the Defence NEWT. He will be your instructor this year. He will be setting and grading your assignments. Mr. Potter is to be treated with respect, and has the ability to award and deduct house points in class, as a professor would.

"If you experience difficulty in this class, you should go to Mr. Potter for help," Professor Silver instructed. "You should come to me only if you do not or cannot receive help from Mr. Potter." He turned to Harry. "Mr. Potter, I leave the class with you." He nodded to the students and went into his office, closing the door. Harry knew there were listening charms in the room, and Silver would be monitoring the classes occasionally. He would also be checking assignments at random, and interviewing students throughout the year to gauged Harry's teaching ability.

"As Professor Silver said, I'm Mr. Potter, and welcome to Defence Against the Dark Arts!" he began warmly. "This class is intended to help you defend yourselves against dark and dangerous magic. This year we'll be covering magical beasts which may be dangerous, such as doxies, imps, bowtruckles, ghosts, and a load of others. I'll also be teaching you spells like the lighting charm, how to create various coloured sparks, the Verdimillious charms, the body-bind curse, and the knock-back jinx.

"First, though, I want to get to know you," he continued, sitting on the front of the desk. He looked out at the forty-two students and smiled. "How many of you grew up watching people use magic every day?" About a third of the hands went up. "How many of you knew about magic before this summer, but maybe didn't see it used every day?" Most of the hands went up. "How many of you didn't know about magic before this summer?" Three Gryffindors raised their hands. "That's fine," he said to the last group. "I assume you grew up in the muggle world?" He got nods. "Anyone else grow up in the muggle world?" About a third of the class raised their hands.

"Who can tell me which war ended in 1945?" All hands went up. "You?" Harry called on a girl.

"The Global Wizarding War," she said. "Albus Dumbledore defeated Gellert Grindelwald to win."

"One point to Gryffindor," Harry said, feeling slightly odd awarding his first house point to his own house. "How about you," he said next, calling on a muggleborn.

"The Second World War ended in 1945," the boy said.

"And how did it end?" Harry pressed.

"The Soviets took Berlin and Adolf Hitler killed himself," the boy replied.

"And what about in Asia?"

"America dropped atom bombs on Japan," the boy supplied.

"One point to Gryffindor," Harry rewarded him. "There are several discussions to be had here. What makes people dark? Is it using dark spells? Is it thinking dark thoughts? Is it acting with dark intent? Or is it some combination of those? Can this same standard be applied to animals, plants, and spirits? What makes an action dark? Do you need to be magical to be dark, or can muggles be dark too? In addition to teaching you to protect yourself, we'll be dealing with these topics in class. First though, a bit of fun. Wands out!" Harry pushed himself off the desk and pulled out his wand.

"What is the opposite of dark?" he asked. Several hands went up. He pointed to the first, a girl.

"Light," she said.

"One point for Gryffindor!" Harry said nodding. "Why is the darkness so scary? Because you can't see, and if you can't see, you can't discover what's coming for you. Therefore, let's take away that fear. The first spell I'm going to teach you is the lighting charm." He held his wand in front of him. "The motion is this," he said, describing a quick circle. "The incantation is _Lumos_." He then performed the spell, illuminating the tip of his wand so they could see. "This is what happens when the spell is performed properly. Now I want you all to try. Remember, intend to provide the light as you move the wand and say the incantation. Pull on your magic, and feel it flow as you cast. Then let the wand and incantation focus the magic to do what you want." He silently cancelled the charm on his own wand. "Begin."

The students all began casting. Some of them got it on the first try. Many of them got it on the second or third try. Harry moved around, correcting mistakes, and encouraging students. After about five minutes even the slowest student had a lit wand.

"The lighting charm is cancelled with the incantation _Nox_," Harry said. "The wand movement is thus." He pulled out his wand and described a small cresting wave in the air. Cancel your lighting charms now." Again, the students complied with varying degrees of success. After another few minutes, all the wands were dark again. "Good. Now everyone, light and extinguish your wands five times. See if you can get if faster. Now that you've done it, concentrate on remembering how the magic feels as it flows through you, and think about how the magic focuses as its cast. Understanding these basics, and how they work for you, will help you when we start casting more complex magic later. Also, see if you can make your wand light dimmer or brighter by casting more or less forcefully or intending it to be so. Begin."

All around the classroom, students were lighting their wands. Harry let this continue for about ten minutes before finally calling a halt. Every child had been able to follow his instructions.

"How many of you took my advice and cast with the intent to make the light brighter or dimmer?" About half the students raised their hands. "And how many of you were able to accomplish the feat?" About half the hands stayed up. "So we agree that it is possible to modify intent while casting a spell, yes?" The class nodded. "What does that say about dark magic?" Harry looked around, but no one volunteered to comment. "There are some spells, which you'll learn about in fourth year, which require malevolence to cast. There are other spells that can be used to do violence against a person which have other uses. Can anyone think of one off hand?"

"The cutting curse?" a boy suggested.

"Good," Harry agreed. "One point to Gryffindor. The cutting curse can be used for many mundane chores. It might be used in lieu of a knife to cut food. It might be used to chop firewood instead of an axe. It might be used instead of scissors to cut fabric or paper. It might also be used to behead an enemy. Does that make the cutting curse dark magic?" The class looked at each other, some shrugging.

"It doesn't," Harry answered his own question. "Most magic can be dangerous without being dark. In most cases, it's the caster's intent which makes magic dark. Most of this course over the next seven years will be you learning how to defend against common spells used with dark or violent intent. Intent can make the cutting curse more dangerous, even deadly. I'm going to use more power, and focus my intent differently to cast a cutting curse against an enemy than I would against a piece of fabric. It even looks slightly different."

"So what makes someone dark?" a girl asked.

"That's a complicated question," Harry allowed. "People have different ideas of what light and dark are. They have different morals and different opinions. Is murder wrong?"

"Yes," the girl replied.

"Is killing in self-defence wrong?"

"No," she said.

"Is killing in the defence of others wrong?"

"No," she said.

"What if I'm defending criminals from arrest?"

"Then yes."

"What if I'm defending someone who attacked another who was themselves defenceless?"

"That's wrong."

"What if that person was my father?"

"That's still wrong." 

"What if your father was being attacked for attacking a defenceless person? Would you defend him?" The girl looked uncomfortable, but stayed silent. "Who decides what's right and wrong? Who is the arbiter of fairness in society? Who determines who is light or dark? Can people be grey? What is grey? These are all questions we'll seek to answer this year, while at the same time beginning to learn to defend ourselves and others. For Thursday I'd like each of you to submit a nine-inch parchment on what you think dark is, and why you think that. You should reinforce your answer with at least two references found in the library. Please provide the books and page numbers you used in reaching your conclusions at the bottom of your parchment. Are there any questions?" Harry looked around and saw none. "Very well, class dismissed."

Harry watched as the twenty students packed up and left. He had the first-year Slytherins immediately after. He knew they'd be harder.

As the first Slytherin girl poked her head in the classroom, Harry waved her in. She had a pudgy face and short chestnut hair pulled back with pink barrettes. When she entered, he noticed her robes stretched tight over her round body, with a pink blouse poking out the sleeves and collar of her Slytherin robes. Her book bag had a carefully drawn picture of a cat on it. Harry's eyes went wide… it couldn't be. He quickly glanced down at the class roster. There it was: Delores Umbridge.

"Shit," he muttered.

ooOOOOoo

"How'd your first day go?" Hermione asked as they walked out that afternoon.

"The Gryffindors were great," Harry said, pushing the entry door open and bathing them in sunlight. "The Slytherins were murder. I have effing Umbridge and McNair in that bloody class! Then, the Ravenclaws kept me into lunch, which I didn't really mind. The Hufflepuffs were quiet."

"Jesus! Umbridge?! And McNair?" They started down the path to Hogsmeade. Evidence of earlier rain was everywhere, but the sun was working hard to burn away the damp. Harry opened his robes due to the heat. "Any other names we know?"

"All the purebloods," Harry said shaking his head. "I feel bad for the kids who aren't purebloods in that house. There was one muggleborn, poor kid. He better find friends in the other houses, but I don't know how he's gonna do it, since they don't have classes with other houses now."

"It is a deficiency of the current system," Hermione allowed. "We'll have to keep an eye out for him. What's his name?"

"David Blair," Harry supplied.

"I'll look out for him," Hermione said. "What did Silver say?"

"Said I did a great job," Harry shrugged. "I think he was being generous. I gave out a slew of points, far more than I remember us getting in our first year."

"Don't sell yourself short, Harry," Hermione replied. "You did a great job teaching the DA, and Dumbledore praised your teaching last year."

"Sure," Harry said. "How's your research coming?"

"It's a little frustrating," Hermione allowed. "I'm familiar with a few charms that haven't been invented yet, and the path I was planning to research includes them, but there's obviously no material on them yet, so it's a bit of a rough hoe."

"And you're too honest and noble to just 'invent' them yourself?" Harry asked.

"Exactly," Hermione replied.

"You know, you could always 'invent' them, work out the arithmancy behind them and press on to invent your own spell later. It would look impressive as hell that you did so much work, and you'd still get to feel like you've not cheated because you actually did invent a spell, just not several."

"I suppose I could," Hermione mused as they reached the gate. "It might take less time than what I was planning. I suppose it wouldn't be unethical, since I'd still be inventing a charm."

"No less ethical than us passing our O.W.L.s, I suppose," Harry chuckled, remembering how they'd done that. He opened the gate for Hermione.

"I can't believe they hadn't changed the test in fifty years!" Hermione said, passing him. "But remember, we earned our N.E.W.T.s the old fashioned way."

"We did," Harry allowed, following her. The conversation entered a lull as they both descended into their thoughts. As they entered Hogsmeade, Hermione had a thought.

"Have you decided what you're going to do with Hogsmeade?" she asked.

"I talked it over with Henry," Harry prefaced. "As Earl of Monar, I'm technically the head of the Shire of Monar, which is a magical shire, the only one in Scotland, and one of only three in Britain. Hogsmeade's an old village, but was never recognized as a burgh prior to the institution of the statutes of secrecy, meaning that it was never recognized as separate from the shire. Long story short, the earl's responsible for governing Hogsmeade, Hogwarts, the Forbidden Forest—which is actually a Royal forest by the way, which is how it became forbidden to use—and another twenty or so square miles of land around Hogsmeade. When Godric died, the Royal Sheriff became the law in Hogsmeade, but with the statutes of secrecy, the Royal Sheriff went away. Since then, Hogsmeade's been governed by a county council of twelve members.

"Godric was also the last surviving founder of Hogwarts, and with his death, the teachers formed a school council, later the Board of Governors, to oversee the running of the school," Harry continued. "I read over the letters patent with Henry, and dug through some of the books I found in the Gryffindor vault. Apparently, I can dissolve the county council and the Board of Governors whenever I want and resume direct administration."

"That could come in useful if the Board decides to do something you don't like," Hermione observed.

"It's a bit of a conundrum, actually," Harry replied. "Henry advised I take direct administration of both immediately, otherwise, I might forfeit my rights, or rather, it can be successfully argued that I'd forfeited my rights later."

"What are you going to do?"

"I've set up a meeting with the Board and the county council for Saturday," Harry said.

"Nice of you to inform me," Hermione replied a bit bitterly. "I could've helped."

"I just did," Harry replied. "Binns only just confirmed the Board meeting today. A representative from the council stopped by between classes and let me know their meeting was Saturday as well." Harry stopped before the door to their house, opened it and stepped aside.

"Then let's get cracking," Hermione said as she entered the house.

ooOOOOoo

Saturday was drizzly but still warm as Harry and Hermione stepped out of the Hogsmeade house. The council meeting was first, scheduled for ten o'clock. Harry took the opportunity to rubber neck as he walked to the village hall, as he'd never been to Hogsmeade on a weekend when it wasn't filled with Hogwarts students.

Hogsmeade was a village of just over a thousand souls, all of them magicals. It was interesting to see the streets filled with witches and wizards going about their weekend shopping and visiting. While not large by muggle standards, Hogsmeade was the only fully magical village in all of Britain. There were no cars or carriages, just people.

Godric's Hollow also sported a large crowd of magicals, but one didn't see them walking about in robes and such because of the nearly equal population of muggles that lived in the town. Despite that, Godric's Hollow was the main town of another of the magical shires. The last was actually in Devon, centred on Ottery St. Catchpole. They suffered from many of the same restrictions that Godric's Hollow did with regard to magic. Here in Hogsmeade, however, magic was on unrestricted display.

Harry and Hermione stepped up to the village hall and Harry opened the door. Hermione, clutching a small folio case, stepped inside. The entry was spacious and simple. The exposed wood was old and nearly black. The walls were white plaster, yellowed with age but clean. Light was from several windows and a large brass chandelier. Several people looked up when Harry and Hermione entered, with two leaving a small group and venturing forward.

"Lord Gryffindor, welcome," a surprisingly happy Aberforth Dumbledore said.

"Mr. Dumbledore," Harry replied, extending his hand, which was quickly shook by the man. "Good to see you. I wasn't aware you were involved with the Hogsmeade council."

"Merely a member," Aberforth replied. "Allow me to introduce Mary Rakepick, the council chairwoman." Harry again extended a hand. Mrs. Rakepick was in her thirties, a slight woman with brown hair.

"A pleasure, milord," she said. Her Scottish accent wasn't thick, but it was present, unlike Aberforth.

"Same here," Harry replied. "This is my wife, Hermione." She greeted Aberforth and Mrs. Rakepick as well. "Where is this meeting to be?" he asked, getting things moving.

"Just there," Mrs. Rakepick replied, pointing to the council chambers door. "It'll be just a moment."

"Excellent," Harry said brightly. "I'll just head in, shall I?" Without waiting, he and Hermione moved off, entering the still darkened room. Shafts of light from the windows illuminated the bench and the gallery. The old wood and yellowed plaster was continued from the entry. Hermione pulled out her wand and lit the lamps overhead, placing her folio down in one of the seats then walked around examining things. Harry relaxed into one of the seats at the front of the gallery and waited.

Presently, the bench and gallery began filling as about fifty people wandered in. Fifteen of them were members of the council. The rest either had business before the council or had heard that change was in the offing. At ten precisely, Mrs. Rakepick brought the meeting to order.

Harry bided his time, waiting for the council to conclude the mundane business of running the town. It was interesting for him to see what people's concerns were. Some requested permission to make improvements to their homes, others were interested in street maintenance, still more were concerned with crime, and finally a large group were involved with the annual magical water plants festival. As the meeting wound down, Harry stood. He was recognized immediately.

"I am Harry Potter," he said, "Lord Gryffindor, recognized by tradition and letters patent as the Earl of Moran, the feudal laird of Hogsmeade." Around him the people reacted. Some were shocked, others curious, a few were hostile, but all kept their seats. "I stand before you to claim what is rightfully mine, the lairdship of Hogsmeade." The murmurs grew. "I recognize that the county council has governed for nearly three hundred years, and that there hasn't been a laird here for nearly a thousand, but that point is moot. Magic has recognized me as the rightful heir to Godric Gryffindor, a position that has been recognized both by His Majesty, George VI, and the Wizengamot. It is my duty to oversee the governance of this village and shire, and I will do so." He looked around. Faces were still upset, uncomfortable, or angry.

"That said," he pressed ahead, "I am happy with the work the county council has performed. It is my will that they shall remain, with some modifications. In order that this is fair to everyone, I've drawn up a charter that lays out the rights of the people, the structure of government in the shire, and what the roles of the various bodies are." He pulled out the charter.

"The council will act as the legislature of the county," he explained. "They will be elected every two years in a general election as is tradition here. The size and structure of the council will remain unchanged. I will act as the executive. I will have veto power over the council and execute the laws. My wife, the Lady Gryffindor, or in her absence some trusted advisor appointed by the laird, shall sit in court and pass judgement. I will post the charter here in the village hall for all to read. A box for questions will be provided, and I will comment on them at the monthly council meetings." He looked around. Some hostile stares remained, but the majority seemed relieved that, to them at least, not much would be changing.

"With that out of the way, to business," Harry said, shifting gears. He turned to the council. "I've heard some complaints today about several issues. How many employees does the village have?"

"We have no employees," Mrs. Rakepick replied.

"That should change," Harry said. "I ask that the council hire five employees immediately, to wit, three constables charged with enforcing the village laws and protecting lives and property, a village administrator, who is authorized to grant permits for buildings and other construction as well as set meetings and process village business and funds when the council isn't meeting, and finally a public works employee who will be responsible for community repairs, community property cleanup, and other tasks and chores. While the constables should be magical humans, I have no problem with the council hiring a squib, muggle, or non-human for the other positions. The funding for these positions will be drawn in half from myself and in half from the village treasury. Pay should be competitive, but not lavish. Thank you." The council looked at each other like they'd all grown a second head. There were murmurs from the gallery too. Eventually, Mrs. Rakepick looked back at Harry and nodded.

"We have a proposal before us from Lord Gryffindor," Mrs. Rakepick announced. "All in favour?"

In the end, Harry left the building half an hour later with the five employees approved. Mrs. Rakepick would begin the hiring process immediately with a goal to have them start working by the beginning of the third week in September. Harry was rather pleased with how that had gone. He was sure that the Board of Governors wouldn't be as amenable.

ooOOOOoo

Nine men were glaring at Harry. Harry glared back. The Board wasn't taking their sacking very well.

"Gentlemen, I won't go over it with you again," he said finally. "I've made my position clear. I've provided you with the documentation substantiating my claim. I am the rightful owner of Hogwarts and your services as a governing body are no longer needed."

"You can't do this," Malfoy sneered from the head of the table. Apparently, being on the Hogwarts Board of Governors had been a Malfoy priority long before Lucius managed the feat.

"I can and have," Harry replied. "This discussion is at an end."

"The Wizengamot…" Malfoy snapped.

"Has recognized my rights by creating me as a member as is required by law," Harry cut the man off. "The rights of lairdship over Hogsmeade and Hogwarts are guaranteed me by my status as Earl of Moran, granted to me by Magic and His Majesty. Should you have an issue with it, I would advise you to take it up with them."

"What do you know about running a school?" one of the other men called to him. Harry hadn't bothered to get the man's name.

"Aside from having recently graduated from the institution in question, I hold a mastery in Transfiguration," Harry replied offhandedly. "I don't understand why you'd particularly want to run a school," he commented, changing the subject. "I'd thought I'd done you a favour taking it off your hands. This job doesn't pay, after all." Harry was completely ignoring the subject of bribes, which he'd heard could be quite lucrative for the Board. "If, however, running a school is of interest to you, you are, of course, free to go ahead and start your own elsewhere."

Harry smirked at them from the foot of the table. He knew they wouldn't do that. Hogwarts was too established, too well known, too magical for people to ignore. It would be the work of more than their lifetimes to even begin to create a school of even marginal repute. Malfoy's bluff of going to the Wizengamot was an empty one; he'd already been rebuffed there once when attacking Harry, and he wasn't about to make the same mistake twice, at least not without years of preparation and a better footing, which he didn't have.

The room was quiet. No one seemed to know what to say.

"You're free to leave whenever you like," Harry said, standing. "I'm done with you."

"You impudent little…"

"Do you really want to finish that sentence in my presence, Lord Malfoy?" Harry asked. "You're in my school, on my land. I'm the law here. Go back to Wiltshire, and bluster all you'd like there."

"The Ministry is law!" Malfoy choked. "The Wizengamot is law!"

"I've read the Wizengamot charter," Harry replied casually. "I know the relevant laws on the matter. I can make additional laws on my land, so long as they don't violate those of the Wizengamot. I have the power to enforce those laws on my land as well as Wizengamot laws. The last time I checked, sedition was a crime."

"What are you talking about?" Malfoy scoffed.

"Well, that sentence you said before, if completed, might be construed to be the incitement of discontent towards the established authority: me. That's the definition of sedition," Harry grinned. "I'm very interested in ensuring the law is properly enforced, especially on my lands. I would hate to have to arrest you for violating it."

Malfoy's eyes widened significantly as a came to understand the threat. Then they narrowed and his nostrils flared. Leaning forward, he placed his hands firmly on the table and thrust himself up.

"I would not give you the satisfaction," he said coldly. Then he turned and swept from the room.

"That man and his ilk will be the death of us all," Harry said, seemingly to himself. The others in the room looked at each other before hurrying out. When the room was empty, Harry sighed. "How long before Malfoy hits back?" he wondered.

"I have no idea," Hermione replied from behind him. "I suppose it depends on whether he's already bought the Ministry, or if that's something Lucius will do."

"Good bet he's done it already," Harry snorted, turning. "The man's a slimy little worm, just like his spawn. The real question is do I fire Binns now or wait for him to die off in a few years?"

"Get rid of him soon," Hermione suggested. I'd hate to have to deal with a haunted Head's office."

"You're right," Harry agreed. "Will you help me feel out the faculty this week to see if any of them want the job?"

"I don't know if any of them will," Hermione replied. "It wasn't too hard to find Professor Robards to take over for Dumbledore according to Victoria, but I think most of them are either too junior or too comfortable in their roles."

"Good point," Harry agreed. "Maybe they'll have some suggestions."

"I wonder if Lady Winifred would be interested in the job?" she commented idly.

"It would keep her busy," Harry mused. "I'll think about it."

ooOOOOoo

"I didn't think he'd be able to move so fast," Harry said, looking up from the parchment. They'd received the Wizengamot notice the next Monday morning at breakfast.

"Who?" Hermione asked.

"Malfoy," Harry replied. "He's gotten a special meeting of the Wizengamot called for this Saturday."

"Does it say what you'll be talking about?" Hermione asked.

"No," Harry informed her, shaking his head. "It doesn't, but it doesn't take a genius to figure out whatever it is will be his next move. I should go in to Wizengamot services today to see if he's submitted anything. If not, I'll try to put something on the docket that will take up a bunch of time. Any ideas?"

"I've got a few," Hermione replied, reaching for her notebook.

"While you do that, I'm going to floo dad to see if he can come too," Harry said, rising. "It'd be nice to have a second opinion."

"Best give Lord William and Lord John a heads up as well," Hermione suggested. "They might be able to help as well."

"I'll do, thanks," Harry said, heading to the fireplace.

ooOOOOoo

"No, Lord Gryffindor," the Wizengamot administrative services clerk replied. "Lord Malfoy didn't submit any agenda for the meeting on Saturday."

"In that case," Flea said, stepping forward, "I'd like to submit these items to the agenda." He handed the woman a small stack of agenda items. Many of the items were taken from the agenda of the regularly scheduled Wizengamot meeting, but the first one was something Flea and Harry had slipped in, and it was sure to take up most of the time for the meeting. It was something many on the light side had wanted to accomplish for some time. There was little chance of it passing, but the bill to prohibit and prevent Ministry employees from accepting money or favours from the public in exchange for special consideration (read: bribes for special treatment) was sure to make for lively discussion.

ooOOOOoo

Harry fell out of the floo Saturday afternoon and immediately collapsed, laughing hysterically, onto the floor.

"What's so funny?" Hermione asked from her seat on the couch in the living room. She carefully closed the book she was reading and placed it aside, standing to help Harry up.

"Malfoy…" Harry barely managed to wheeze out, looking up with tears streaming down his face as he kept laughing. Hermione nodded and extended a hand, pulling him up. He managed to make it to the couch and flopped down. Eventually, his laughter subsided.

"Now, would you like to tell me what Malfoy's done to put you in such a good mood?" Hermione asked, resuming her seat.

"It's not what he's done, it's what's been done to him," Harry replied, grinning. Hermione just raised an eyebrow in a silent plea for him to continue. "You remember all that proposed legislation we dumped into the agenda to take up all the Wizengamot's time?"

"Yes."

"Turns out, the idiot didn't bother to check on the agenda until he arrived," Harry informed her, his grin widening. "He stood up after the Chief Warlock opened the meeting and started talking. Lord William immediately interrupted, pointing out his item wasn't on the agenda. The Chief Warlock then asked if what Malfoy had to say pertained to any of the agenda items. Malfoy turned purple and admitted he wasn't aware of any agenda, but that he'd called for the session and had a right to be heard."

"Is that how it works?"

"No," Harry laughed. "The Chief Warlock told him that didn't mean anything, and that he had to stick to the agenda. That his item would have to wait for new business to come up, which, of course, it never did."

"How long's he been on the Wizengamot? That seems like something he should've known," Hermione wondered.

"I asked dad," Harry replied. "Apparently, he's only held his family's seat for two years. His grandfather was holding the seat before that. Both his grandfather and his father died while visiting South America, and he inherited the seat then."

"What happened in South America?"

"I don't know the whole story," Harry allowed, "but dad said they were in the Amazon and disappeared. The current Lord Malfoy mounted a search when they'd been gone a year. He never found them, and he never said what happened on his trip. He filed death notices for both of them with the Ministry and petitioned the Wizengamot to take up the family seat."

"Knowing Malfoy, I wouldn't put it past him to not search, and just have them declared dead so he could sit the seat," Hermione observed sourly.

"I dunno," Harry shrugged. "Anyway… Once we got onto the first agenda item, he really exploded."

"The bill to stop bribes to Ministry employees?"

"Yeah," Harry smiled again. "Dad and I thought that law had no chance of passing, but apparently we're not the only ones unhappy with his chosen methods of skirting the law. It didn't take up nearly as much time as we thought it would."

"Oh?"

"Malfoy and a few other dark members turned purple, but how do you defend something that's clearly wrong?" Harry asked rhetorically. "They hadn't checked the agenda, because Malfoy told all the dark families what he'd called the session for. None of them knew our bill would be on the agenda, so they hadn't prepared for it. We, on the other hand, were ready with our reasoned arguments."

"The law should be applied fairly to everyone," Hermione recited. "No one should be able to skirt the law, just because they have money. Government shouldn't work better for someone just because they have money. A vow by Ministry employees to not accept bribes is an easy way to ensure that the law is enforced, government works as it should, and means that the Ministry doesn't have to dedicate resources to enforcement."

"That's what we said," Harry agreed. "Between the Longbottom, Abbott, Potter, and Gryffindor seat we made quite the persuasive argument. The light seats were always going to be easy, and we had them all within five minutes. What we didn't anticipate was the grey seats agreed with us shortly thereafter."

"And that was enough to get it passed?"

"It was," Harry agreed. "But the real shock was when Lord Black voted in favour of the measure as well. That got us about half the dark seats, too. Malfoy was NOT happy with that, I can tell you."

"Oh… My… God!" Hermione exploded, falling back into her seat, laughing.

"So, yeah," Harry continued as she petered out. "That took all of about half an hour to pass. Sorta makes me wish I'd slipped a couple more good ideas into the agenda, because you can bet that Malfoy's going to try again, and he's not going to be so foolish the next time."

"There's going to be a next time?" Hermione asked, sighing.

"Well, fortunately, the other agenda items took a lot longer than the first one did," Harry revealed.

"So you never got to new business?"

"So we never got to new business."

"You'll have to strengthen those arguments we've been working on before next Saturday, then," Hermione reminded him.

"By that time, I'll have been running both Hogsmeade and Hogwarts for a fortnight," Harry replied. "I don't know what specifically he's going for, but our assumption, especially based on his opening monologue today, is he doesn't give a whit about Hogsmeade. His target is to regain control of Hogwarts."

"Why do I get the feeling that your ancient and affirmed rights aren't going to be your key play?"

"Well, to a point they will," Harry replied. "But I think outside testimony that I'm actually doing a good job as administrator, and acting in the best interests of the school will sufficiently dampen the spirits of the Wizengamot to get involved.

"How are you going to do that?"

"Money," Harry explained. "Hogwarts isn't part of the Ministry… It's mine, in fact, so I can and should, give them all the money I want. That should get Binns and the other staff on my side. And if the staff is on my side, and willing to say so to the Wizengamot, then Malfoy loses credibility."

"That's something I hadn't thought of," Hermione allowed. "I bet Malfoy never gave Hogwarts any money."

"A quick check of the Board's records should prove that none of them added to the funds of the school," Harry replied. "In fact, I bet that they were fairly miserly with the purse strings to the funds. It's something I plan to review with Gringotts and Binns this week."

"Every little bit helps," Hermione reasoned.

"Indeed," Harry agreed.

"Just don't let your studies suffer," she added.

"I won't," Harry said, leaning over and kissing her on her temple. "What have you been up to today?"

"Extension charms," Hermione said, holding up her book. "I can't believe how strictly controlled these are."

"Well, you did have to go to the Ministry just to get that book," Harry pointed out.

"No, I had to go to the Ministry to get permission to get the book," Hermione clarified, setting the book down. "The use of the charm is controlled, but the book, containing detailed knowledge on the charm is restricted. The head of the misuse of magical artefacts office had to sign off on my obtaining it, after I'd gotten a letter from Victoria saying I was researching the subject, and I had to swear I wasn't going to do anything illegal with the knowledge."

"Like what?" Harry wanted to know.

Hermione responded by standing, putting up a finger, then leaving the room. She came back a minute later toting a much larger book which she dropped in his lap.

"Like that," she said, gesturing to the book. Harry glanced at the title: _Magical Law of England, Scotland, and Ireland (Self Updating): Statutory Instruments, Chapter 5, Section 4, Charms_.

"Christ!" Harry swore. "How much of that's expansion charms?"

"At least fifty pages," Hermione replied. "The laws are slightly different in the different parts of the country, but not significantly."

"It's a good thing you've got a good memory then," Harry joked, passing the book back to her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5—Showdown**

"I call this session of the Wizengamot of Great Britain and Ireland to order," the chief warlock intoned a week later. Harry had learned his name was Lord Reginald Fawley. He was an older pureblood, a part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, and grey. Harry thought him a good choice.

Harry glanced down at the agenda before him. Apparently Malfoy had learned his lesson, as "Education discussion – Lord Abraxas Malfoy' headed the list.

"The chair recognizes Lord Malfoy," the chief warlock said after dispensing with the formalities of opening the body.

"Thank you," the slick man said after clearing his throat and standing. "I stand before this esteemed body today concerned about the state of our educational system. A fortnight ago, Lord Gryffindor took it upon himself to dissolve the Board of Governors of Hogwarts, and assumed direct control of this nation's school.

"A bit of history," Malfoy continued after a short pause. "The Board was instituted almost a thousand years ago after the last of the founders died. It has managed the funds of the school, set tuition, conducted repairs and construction, and overseen staff hiring for nearly a millennia.

"In contrast," Malfoy said, sneering at Harry, "Lord Gryffindor is merely eighteen. He has no experience managing… anything, really. He doesn't understand the work… or the nuances that go into running the school, and it would be criminally irresponsible of this body to allow any mismanagement to occur to our nation's institution of learning because of his inexperience.

"Therefore," he concluded, "I present a bill, the Education Reform Bill of 1949, which will nationalize Hogwarts, place it under the Department of Magical Education, and restore the board to a position of oversight." He sat as copies of the bill magically appeared before each of the members. Harry, of course, had already obtained a copy from Wizengamot services the day before – the earliest it was available – and read through it. The gist was that it stripped Harry of his rights to the school, made the board a government-funded position, and grandfathered in both the board members as they existed prior to Harry's take over, but also their method of selection – which is to say, self-selection. Harry rolled his eyes.

"We will now have discussion of this bill," Chief Warlock Fawley said. Immediately, one of Malfoy's cronies stood to speak in favour of the bill. Thereafter followed a long line of dark seats speaking in favour. No one stood to speak against the bill. Harry had asked his friends not to. Instead, he bided his time, waiting for them to tire themselves out. Finally, the last speaker in favour resumed his seat. "Are there any other who wish to speak on this bill?"

"I do," Harry said, rising. He looked down at his notes, both those that he'd brought with him and those he'd made while listening to the arguments presented earlier. "Lord Malfoy and his compatriots have spoken at length about my inexperience, and how Hogwarts should be returned to their finely tuned leadership. He speaks of criminal irresponsibility and the work required to run a school. He says nothing of my duties as Lord Gryffindor, the previous title-holder being the last surviving founder. He says nothing of my rights which he proposes trampling on without compensation to me. He also presents no facts to back up his claims. He doesn't mention how, despite being an unpaid position up until this time, he's managed to enrich himself to the tune of Ǥ50,000 per annum through the acceptance of bribes and diverted funds." There were several gasps around the room, and Malfoy himself was turning purple with rage. "It isn't strange, therefore, that, with the spectre of a Ministry-required anti-bribery vow and tighter monitoring of the school's fund, he's deigned to propose that the salary for the head of the board be that same Ǥ50,000 which he would be losing."

"You're lying!" Malfoy shouted, rising at last.

"Funny," Harry said, dismissing him. "That's what the goblins said you'd say when I presented this evidence." He touched his wand to several bank documents, which then duplicated themselves in front of every member. "These are the financials for the Hogwarts Fund for the past five years. You'll notice that every month there's a Ǥ1,000 transfer and eight Ǥ500 transfers from interest to nine different numbered and named accounts. The Ǥ1,000 transfer is to Lord Malfoy and the smaller ones to the other board members, despite their positions on the board supposedly being unpaid. I suppose that, since they controlled the account, they didn't think anyone else would get to look at it. When I took over, I audited the funds, to see what was there.

"I found it surprising, what with the Ǥ60,000 worth of superfluous withdrawals every year, that the fund was still making money," Harry observed. "In fact, an additional Ǥ20,000 of interest were added to the principal every year. Sad, then, that that excess money wasn't used to hire more staff, increase staff wages, or upgrade facilities. In fact, expenditures other than food haven't increased in ten years. In fact, with Professor Dippet's retirement and Professor Dumbledore's death, the expenses have gone down, as more junior people were installed in two positions, resulting in lower salaries. During that same time there were two increases in tuition, keeping pace with inflation. Why?

"There have been annual contributions of interest to principal nearly every year for five centuries," Harry explained. "Only twice in that time has the board needed to spend from principal and those withdrawals were both made good the next year.

"Prior to Lord Malfoy's father assuming the headship of the board thirty years ago, interest payments to principal were in the realm of Ǥ1,000 to Ǥ5,000, with the rest of the interest being used to increase salaries, provide bonuses, and improve facilities," Harry revealed. "The number was so low because the difference between income and expense was usually low.

"Lord Malfoy's father apparently changed all that," Harry continued. "He immediately raised tuition and started paying himself and his fellow board members a monthly stipend. Staff wages have stagnated while the fund grew. It's now twice as large as it was two centuries ago, and almost two thirds of that growth was in the last thirty years.

"To correct the past thirty years of mismanagement, over the past two weeks I've increased teacher salaries to compensate for inflation, putting them on par with or ahead of competing schools," Harry announced. "I also plan to lower tuition for the school year beginning in September 1950, to a level where the school fund will return to a Ǥ5,000 interest payment to principal. I had planned to donate Ǥ1,000,000 to the school fund to offset my changes, but after consulting with the goblins, I've decided I won't need to do that. Simply ending the board's payments to themselves will be enough.

"I'll be paying for castle improvements out of my own pocket," Harry continued. "It's about time the kitchens and store rooms were updated. New school brooms are also on the list of improvements. I'm considering partnering with some businesses to install a school store selling parchment and quills, textbooks, and comfort items to students. I'm also planning to review the rest of the structure over the winter to see what sort of actions I can take to make the castle warmer and more efficient.

"I would ask that you allow the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Professor Cuthbert Binns, to speak about the issue," Harry concluded. He gestured to where Professor Binns sat in the gallery. Chief Warlock Fawley nodded, and Harry sat, yielding the floor to Binns.

"Good morning," Binns said, his voice gravelly and slow. It was a voice Harry remembered from hundreds of classes, though it was less spectral and more earnest now. "Lord Gryffindor has done amazing work since taking control of the school. When it fell to me to hire replacements for myself teaching History of Magic, and Professor Dumbledore teaching Transfiguration, I found it difficult to locate people with the necessary education and will to teach those subjects. I worked tirelessly to actively solicit recruits. Several turned me down outright, while some heard me out and then balked at the salary being offered.

"In the last week," Binns continued, "I've had four requests to be placed on a list of future professorial candidates. The word has gotten out amongst the academic community that the times are changing at Hogwarts. I feel confident that the reforms Lord Gryffindor has made will have nothing but a positive effect on the school and its students. He has my wholehearted support for his measures, and I will do my best to see them implemented in the time I have left. At the very least, his reforms will make it easier to obtain my replacement when I retire after this school year. Thank you."

"Headmaster," Chief Warlock Fawley called out as Binns turned to sit. Binns righted and turned back. "Erm, you're retiring at the end of the year?"

"Yes," Binns replied lightly. "Lord Gryffindor's reforms included reinstating the pensions for Hogwarts staff that were suspended thirty years ago, so I'll be able to retire and not worry about my income. I was afraid I'd be working right up to my death. I'm very much looking forward to gardening!"

"The chair recognizes Lord Abbott," the chief warlock announced after Binns had sat.

"In light of the… disturbing facts brought to light regarding Lord Malfoy and his family's tenure as head of the Hogwarts Board of Governors, and the revelations regarding Lord Gryffindor's actions taken since taking rightful control of the school, I move that Lord Malfoy's bill be removed from consideration, and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement be charged with looking into the matter," Lord John offered.

"Excuse me," Harry said rising. After getting the nod from the chief warlock he continued. "While I wholeheartedly agree with the first bit, the second bit is unnecessary. Lord Malfoy's embezzlement from the Hogwarts School Fund is a civil matter, and paperwork has already been filed with Wizengamot services to try a case with a view to recoup the theft. Thank you." He sat back down, while Malfoy continued to fume, turning interesting colours.

By this time, the vote was almost assured. Even the dark seats didn't want to be seen as to be accessory to theft from children, some of whom were purebloods. Those with children in school, or soon to be in school, were also in favour of Harry's reduction in tuition. Only Malfoy and the two other board members who sat on the Wizengamot voted against killing Malfoy's bill. Harry grinned at Flea, then settled in for another long, boring Wizengamot session.

ooOOOOoo

"Harry, you're going to want to see this," Hermione said over breakfast three days later.

"What is it?" he asked, looking over. In response she passed him the _Daily Prophet_, turned to page five below the fold. He found the article immediately. There was no headline. It was just one of many small news blurbs under the headline 'Crime and Courts.'

_Leslie Mulciber, son of James and Regina Mulciber, was pardoned by the Minister for Magic yesterday evening, and released from Azkaban Prison. Mulciber was convicted two years ago of attacking Harry Potter, now Lord Gryffindor, and heir to the Potter lordship. Later, he was also convicted of eight counts of sexual assault and failure to report the illegal actions of his father. His remaining sentence of seven years was expunged with the pardon. In her brief statement, Minister Tuft said, "Leslie Mulciber has atoned for his crime. It was a schoolboy fight, nothing more. With regards to the other charges, there's no evidence he wasn't imperioused by his father, who was, after all, convicted of using an unforgivable curse… on Aurors nonetheless. Therefore, to keep him imprisoned longer is a miscarriage of justice." Mulciber has returned to his home, where he now resides with his mother._

"Son of a bitch!" Harry growled, tossing the paper down. It narrowly missed his breakfast.

"Language, Harry," Hermione chided gently, retrieving the paper.

"Malfoy did this!" he observed, gesturing angrily to the paper.

"That would be a good guess," Hermione agreed. "I don't know how he convinced Minister Tuft to do it, but I also suspect he's behind it."

"He did it to get back at me!" Harry raged.

"Perhaps," Hermione allowed. "Or, maybe he's distracting you."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," Hermione reasoned, "if you're busy dealing with Mulciber, you won't be mucking up whatever Malfoy's planning."

"If that was the case, then why didn't he bribe the _Prophet_ to get the story on the front page?" Harry wondered. Hermione just shrugged. "I should ask Henry how to handle this."

"That sounds like a good idea," Hermione replied. Finally satisfied Harry had a plan, she turned back to her breakfast.

ooOOOOoo

Things were quiet until Christmas time. Life continued for Harry and Hermione. He tried to seamlessly insert himself into the local government in Hogsmeade, and, barring a few hiccups, was successful. Professor Binns and the rest of the staff at Hogwarts were singing his praises by the end of the term, and the students were happier as well. Harry was frequently stopped in the halls by students to thank him for some change or other he'd implemented. It wasn't until Friday, December 16, 1949, that he got an inkling of what was to come.

"Harry!" a voice called as Harry and Hermione were leaving the gates of Hogwarts. It was cold, but dry. Harry's breath billowed around him as he turned to see Alphard Black running up to him. "I thought I'd missed you!"

"Good evening Alphard," Harry said congenially, extending a hand.

"Hello," Hermione added, smiling herself.

"Lord Sirius asked me to find you," Alphard said once the salutations were over. "Mulciber's on the move." His grey eyes flashed and his mouth turned down with worry.

"Let's go to my house," Harry suggested, moving with urgency towards Dumbledore's old residence. No other words were said until they got inside and the door was closed. Harry led them to the living room, one of the rooms that was fully furnished.

Because he used the Hogsmeade house as little more than a floo stop, he hadn't seen the need to do much with the place. When he took control of the government there, he'd renovated the dining room into an office, and spruced up the living room a bit so he could use it for business meetings with local residents. The bedrooms upstairs and the kitchen downstairs were as Dumbledore had left them.

"Now," Harry said, sitting on the couch, "what's the wanker doing?"

"He's raising a fucking army," Alphard said, leaning forward in his seat.

"Christ," Harry swore. "How much do you know?"

"My father, Pollux, was approached at the beginning of October by Dick Crabbe, who was meeting with the other dark families," Alphard explained. "I've heard the Bulstrodes, Carrows, Flints, Lestranges, Malfoys, Notts, Parkinsons, Rowles, Selwyns, Travers, and Yaxleys have also been approached, but never the head of the family, always the darkest member. Mulciber is fuming about the Ministry and you. He's right put out that attacking you got him chucked in prison, and he wants to overthrow the Ministry and 'set things right'. From what I can gather, it's mostly pureblood drivel mixed with a rehash of Rosier's sales pitch to me when he wanted me to attack you. I guess I know where Rosier got it from." Harry grinned and shook his head. "What?"

"I just find it amusing that you, of all people, called it 'pureblood drivel,'" Harry snorted.

"In my young and stupid days I actually listened to my father," Alphard allowed. "Now I listen to my head of house." He shook his head. "Anyway, my father, the idiot, actually listened to Crabbe, and immediately agreed to help. He actually went to Mulciber and swore allegiance!"

"He should've gone to Lord Black first," Harry observed.

"He should've, but he didn't," Alphard agreed. "That was his second stop. He was tasked with bringing Lord Sirius on board."

"Let me guess… that didn't go so well?" Harry wondered.

"It did not," Alphard grinned. "Long story short, my father got disowned and disinherited for not being loyal to House Black. Swearing allegiance to someone outside the family is a big no-no for us."

"I gathered," Harry grinned. "So Pollux is a Black no more?"

"Him and my mother," Alphard explained. "I managed to escape the pruning shears."

"So this army?" Harry prompted, getting the conversation back on track.

"I hear my parents talk sometimes," Alphard said. "Apparently, Mulciber's got some of the lower pureblood houses: the Crabbes, the Goyles, the Princes, and others; but none of the noble pureblood families are willing to fight for him. Oh, he's got a few second sons, nephews, and the like, but they're all on the outs with their heads of house."

"How many total?" Hermione asked, entering the conversation.

"Maybe twenty," Alphard said with a shrug. "He's sticking with the purebloods for now. He refuses to treat with 'beasts' and 'creatures', so no vampires, werewolves, giants, or whatever. He's planning to 'announce' himself to the public in Diagon Alley on Christmas Eve. His followers are busy preparing for it."

"How?" Harry wanted to know.

"They're arranging to have portable ward stones that put up anti-apparition wards so people can't escape," Alphard revealed. "They tried to buy off the Floo Office at the Ministry, but that didn't work, so there's a flaw that can be exploited. They'll be using portkeys – unregistered, of course – to get in and out."

"How are they funding all this?" Hermione asked.

"Their secret backer," Alphard said slyly. He paused a moment to let that sink in.

"Bloody Malfoy!" Harry practically shouted.

"Perceptive as always, I see," Alphard grinned, nodding. "Word has it that Malfoy isn't stingy with the money. Several of Mulciber's followers have been able to quit their jobs. My father said they were giving Mulciber a crash course in dark magic."

"That makes sense," Harry nodded. "The prick didn't finish Hogwarts, after all. I wonder why Malfoy picked him as the figurehead?"

"You, probably," Hermione supplied. "He'll get your attention. Plus, he was supposed to make a strong case as a 'wronged pureblood' to the other pureblood families I'm sure. With you distracted, and the purebloods mobilized, he'll be able to pass whatever laws he wants."

"Then I'd best not get distracted," Harry observed. "I need to consult Henry on this, and the others."

"This might be something to turn over to the Ministry," Hermione suggested.

"While Harry fixed the Ministry's bribery problem, there are still purebloods working in the Ministry who are supplying Malfoy and Mulciber with information – though for free now," Alphard cautioned. "I would hesitate to bring the Ministry in before the last possible moment."

"Thanks," Harry said, standing and extending his hand. "I can't thank you enough for bringing this to my attention. Please thank Lord Black for me as well."

ooOOOOoo

Harry found Christmas eve to be a busy time for Diagon Alley. He was casually walking the street with Hermione. Flea and Mia were there doing the same, as were Charlus and Dorea, the Abbotts – including Marina, the Longbottoms – with Neville, John King and Kathleen Hall, Lord Black, and Alphard. In all Harry had 20 people positioned in the Alley. Most of them were wearing pieces of dragon hide armour under their robes pulled from their family vaults. Those who weren't knew to take cover. The rules of engagement were simple: don't cast until they do, respond with equal level spells, and if they cast the killing curse… cast to kill.

They had been in place for about half an hour. Alphard had managed to learn that the 'announcement' would take place around 4 o'clock. Overcast all day, it was now growing dark, though it was warm for December at about 45° F. Still, Harry's breath misted in front of him as he looked in the window of Quality Quidditch Supply for the second time.

He checked his watch, seeing it was nearly 4. Glancing around, he spotted several people walking down the street with hoods pulled up. That, in and of itself, wasn't unusual, but they were all walking in the same direction. They weren't together, but they were in small groups – twos and threes – and they were all headed to Gringotts.

Harry squeezed Hermione's hand and nodded towards the cloaked arrivals when she looked up.

"What'd'ya reckon it's them?" Harry asked rhetorically. He glanced around and found most of the others he'd brought. Several nodded at him, having noticed the figures too. Harry lingered by Quality Quidditch Supplies as the cloaked group coalesced around the steps of Gringotts. He watched as two of them continued down the street. "I bet those two are placing the anti-apparition runes at the end of the street."

"That means there's probably another pair at the other end of the Alley," Hermione surmised.

"Rune and blocking the exit to the Leaky?"

"That's a good guess," Hermione agreed as Harry watched Flea and Mia peel off to follow the two headed for the end of the Alley. "I bet those two are also supposed to prevent anyone from fleeing into Carkitt Market."

"Dad and Mum'll set them straight," Harry said. "They'll have the element of surprise." He'd already talked their plans through. While they didn't know what exactly was going to happen, they did discuss tactics.

Harry and Hermione lingered another two minutes, watching the passing shoppers in the window's reflection, and glancing every so often over at the now obvious gathering of cloaked individuals at the steps to Gringotts. There were maybe a dozen people there.

As Harry glanced at the group for the fourth time, he watched one member raise their wand into the air and fire a cannon blast coupled with a massive blaze of sparks. Everyone nearby jumped, and their focus was instantly on the group. Harry felt the anti-apparition wards snap into place over the shopping area. Without hesitating, he pulled out his wand and started towards the group.

"I am the Dark Lord Mulciber!" a voice shouted. It had clearly been amplified magically, as the sound reverberated clearly down the street. Harry noticed Mulciber, a bit older, standing at the top of the steps, hood down, arms spread wide. "I have come to rescue pureblood wizard-kind from the mudbloods, the half-breeds, the creatures, and the muggle filth. I have come to cleanse the world, and announce a new day for magic!"

At the base of the steps, the foot soldiers began firing spells into the crowd. Harry couldn't identify them all, but he saw cutting curses, bone-breakers, exploding curses, and the torture curse. Harry watched as Hermione performed a summoning charm, then he broke into a run and was twenty yards away when he started firing back.

Without uttering a word, he conjured a quiver of arrows and banished them into the Death Eater wannabes. He didn't stop when three of them went down hard, he merely silently cast the severing charm at a fourth. Other spells began raining down on the black-robed group, and they dropped quickly. Several put up a good fight, exchanging spells for a few seconds, but the numbers were thinning quickly. It didn't take them long to lose heart.

"Fly!" shouted one, and he disappeared.

"No!" cried Mulciber as he watched two others portkey away. The rest of his foot soldiers were down, and Harry's friends and family were advancing on Gringotts. He reached into his pocket. It was empty.

"Looking for this?" Hermione called out, holding up a small pebble. With her other hand she stunned the gaping criminal. "Idiot."

Harry scanned the now nearly empty street. Besides Mulciber, nine cloaked bodies lay before Gringotts. Three bodies lay in the street, with perhaps ten people crying, moaning, or trying to stand. Harry saw several of his group helping those people along with some bystanders. From the direction of Carkitt Market, Harry saw Flea and Mia levitating two bodies and bearing a small rune stone. Looking the other way, he saw Neville and Marina levitating another body and carrying a second rune stone.

"Aurors!" came the shout from the direction of the Leaky Cauldron. Four men in auror's robes pushed through the crowd. While people had started fleeing when the spellfire began, now they were starting to return, pushing close to see what had happened. The aurors arrived, surveying the scene. Two of them immediately began controlling the crowd, while the other two, including the one who looked like he was in charge moved towards Harry, Hermione, and where the action had been.

"Wands down, everyone!" the lead auror commanded. Almost everyone complied, Harry slipping his wand back into its holster. Some of the group were helping injured people, though. "I said wands away!" the auror repeated.

"My wand's the only thing keeping this woman alive right now," Lady Sarah Longbottom snapped back. "So unless you've got a healer in your back pocket you'll let me keep my wand out." The auror looked briefly taken aback.

"Erm, fine," he finally acquiesced. "What happened here?"

"If I may?" Lord Black asked, stepping forward.

"Of course, Lord Black," the auror said, recognizing him immediately.

"We were here concluding our Christmas shopping," Lord Black said, indicating his grandnephew. "when a baker's dozen of black-cloaked men started firing curses into the crowd. We merely defended ourselves."

"They just started firing curses?" the auror asked, incredulous.

"Their leader did make a brief statement," Lord Black allowed. "He called himself the Dark Lord Mulciber, and announced a campaign to overthrow the government in order to destroy muggleborns, non-humans, and muggles."

"He said that?" the auror pressed.

"Words to that effect," Lord Black shrugged. "I can, of course, provide a memory of the encounter."

"How many of you defended yourselves?" the auror asked the group. Harry and the rest raised their hands, along with two or three others who had also raised their wands in self-defence. The auror made a note in a pad. "And all the… gang, I guess… were here?"

"No," Flea called out from the group. "These two were down by Carkitt Market. I watched them set up an anti-apparition rune stone in the middle of the street. When the spells started flying down here, they raised their wands and got off a spell each before Mia and I put them down. There's a couple of injured people down there, but they're being seen to by an off-duty healer."

"Same by the Leaky," Neville offered. "Two more there, same thing. I got one, when he started firing off spells, but the other one dipped through the wall into the Leaky and scarpered. Here's their rune stone." He passed it to the auror.

"How many others got away?" the auror asked.

"Three," Lord William informed the auror. "They portkeyed away from the steps here when we didn't roll over like sheep."

"I'm going to need to know who cast what, and… just, everyone will need to provide a memory," he finished lamely. It was going to be a long night.

ooOOOOoo

The attack was front page news on Boxing Day.

_Mulciber and compatriots attack Diagon Alley!_

_Leslie Mulciber, pardoned this fall by Minister Tuft, attacked Diagon Alley on Christmas eve with twenty followers. Mulciber, who was expelled from Hogwarts and has not taken his N.E.W.T.s, announced himself as a dark lord on the steps of Gringotts Bank at four p.m., during the height of shopping for last minute gifts. He proceeded to claim he was initiating a war against muggleborns, sentient magical creatures, and muggles in an effort to implement pureblood rule. It was unclear as to the status of half-bloods under his proposed regime._

_Immediately thereafter, his followers began casting spells randomly into the crowd. The reason for this was unclear, though three were killed and fourteen injured during this cowardly attack. The crowds began to flee the carnage, but were unable to apparate away as Mulciber's followers had erected illegal anti-apparition wards over Diagon Alley. People who crowded into the nearest shops were able to floo to safety, with many people escaping that way._

_In a surprising turn of events for Mulciber, a large number of passers-by began returning the spellfire of his followers, killing thirteen and stunning four. After a few minutes, four of Mulciber's followers managed to escape using portkeys. Mulciber himself was stunned by Lady Gryffindor after she had the foresight to summon Mulciber's portkey during the battle, preventing Mulciber's escape._

_It has been discovered that the portkeys were obtained the day prior by Thaddeus Prince, who works in the Portkey Registry Office of the Department of Magical Transportation. Aurors visited Prince's home on Christmas and found him nursing an injury. Under questioning, Prince admitted that he had obtained the portkeys and provided them to Mulciber, and that he'd been present with Mulciber's forces in Diagon Alley during the attack. Aurors arrested Prince._

_Killed in the attack were pureblood Arcturus Black, 48, of London; Mary Standbridge, 42, of Hempstead; and Wendell Quirrell, 29, of Godric's Hollow. Arcturus Black was the heir apparent to the Black Lordship before his death. Injured in the attack were pureblood Theodore Nott, 101, of Cambridgeshire; pureblood James Shaklebolt, 81, of London; pureblood Melania Black, nee McMillan, 47, of London; pureblood Lucretia Fawcett, nee Black, 24, of Hogsmeade; pureblood Frederick Davis, 18, of Godric's Hollow; pureblood John Shafiq, 12, of Manchester; Julia Tipton, 102, of Hogsmeade; Thomas Lewis, 65, of Godric's Hollow; James Smith, 43, of Liverpool; Evelyn Winters, 40, of London; Amelia Jones, 37, of Caernarfon; Martin Wilson, 33, of Devonshire; Pauline Grant, 21, of Inverness; and Joyce Cook, 18, of Surrey._

_The bodies of the attackers have also been identified. Pureblood Pollux Black, pureblood Donald Bulstrode, pureblood Louis Carrow, pureblood Clancy Carter, pureblood Richard Crabbe, pureblood Thomas Crabbe, pureblood Martin Flint, pureblood Henry Goyle, pureblood Gerald Harper, pureblood John Rowle, pureblood James Smythe, pureblood Stanley Winfield, and pureblood Evan Yaxley, were all dead at the scene. Aside from Mulciber, pureblood Percy LeStrange, pureblood Stephen Selwyn, and pureblood Gerry Travers were all stunned and arrested._

_Lord LeStrange and Lord Travers have disowned their arrested family members. Lord Yaxley refused to make a statement. Other lords whose family members had died in the commission of a crime on Christmas Eve made various statements of regret. Pollux Black, Louis Carrow, and John Rowle had already been disowned from their families._

_Lord Black, Pollux Black's uncle and Arcturus Black's father, was one of those to actively defend Diagon Alley, along with the Lord and Lady Abbott, the Lord and Lady Gryffindor, the Lord and Lady Longbottom, and the Lord and Lady Potter._

_In a statement made later Christmas Eve, Minister Tuft reversed her pardon of Mulciber saying, "It's obvious that I was misinformed as to his character, and he never should've been released from prison. He will be immediately returned to Azkaban until he can be tried on charges of insurrection, treason, and the like." She also, at the suggestion of Lord Abbott and Lord Gryffindor, immediately authorized an investigation into where Mulciber got the funds to operate. Gringotts pledged its cooperation in the effort in a seldom-seen bit of goblin-wizard cooperation._

"It looks like things are about to get a little warm for Abraxas Malfoy," Harry observed as he put the paper down.

"Not if he was smart enough to use a proxy to convince Minister Tuft to free Mulciber," Hermione rebutted.

"Not that," Harry said, before reversing himself. "Well, okay, that, but also: How hard do you think it'll be to follow the money with the goblins' help?"

"Not hard," Hermione snorted before taking a sip of tea.

ooOOOOoo

New Year's Day 1950 found Harry and the others who had fought back on Christmas Eve seated on a dais.

"The quick thinking, and bravery of these people cannot be overstated," Minister Tuft was saying to the assembled crowd in the Ministry atrium. From the throngs cameras flashed as she spoke. "From the loftiest lord to the plainest muggleborn, these witches and wizards before you are heroes. Without their actions on Christmas Eve, many more would have died. It is, therefore, my distinct pleasure to award them the Order of Merlin."

The presentation itself was divided in half. Flea, Mia, the Longbottoms, the Abbotts, and the random bystanders were to be awarded the Order of Merlin, Second Class. Harry applauded as his mum and dad and the others had the awards draped around their necks.

"And now, the Order of Merlin, First Class," Minister Tuft prefaced. "It is awarded for acts of outstanding bravery or distinction. While those who received the Second Class award just now acted beyond the ordinary, a review of several memories concluded that these next awardees contributed the most to the ending of the threat. If you would please rise as I call your names to receive the award… Sirius Black, Lord Black." She moved over and draped the green ribbon around his neck, then shook his hand. "Congratulations, Lord Black." She moved over to the pillow where the awards rested and got the next one, and proceeded down the line. "Alphard Black… John King… Kathleen Hall… Harry Potter, Lord Gryffindor." Harry inclined his head forward as the short woman stood on tiptoes to place the ribbon around his neck. "Congratulations, Lord Gryffindor," she concluded, shaking his hand, before she moved on. Harry sat back down, squeezing Hermione's hand briefly. "Hermione Potter, Lady Gryffindor." Beside him, Hermione stood to receive her award. Harry beamed.

This was momentous for two reasons. First, he and his friends and family were being recognized for fighting the dark. It appeared that the Black family was moving out of the dark and into the grey camp, at least with Lord Black. Alphard was firmly in the light camp with Harry. With the award of the Order of Merlin, First Class, he'd secured a lifetime seat on the Wizengamot, which would provide him a soft landing should he be kicked out of the family.

That, though was looking less likely. Lord Black's son, Arcturus, had been killed during the Diagon attack. He hadn't been there to help, he and his wife had been shopping. By the time Lord Black knew he was there, it was too late to get them away, or even warn them. With his death, Lord Black's grandson Orion was the new heir apparent. At twenty, he was still malleable, and with hope, might keep the family in the grey camp.

The second reason this was momentous, was tied to the first in a way. John King, Kathleen Hall, Arcturus and Hermione all gained seats on the Wizengamot, which increased the light sided voting block by four, putting them nearly on par with the dark voting bloc. They would now need to convince fewer grey seats to vote their way.

As applause rang through the hall, Harry smiled. The recipients all stood, and photographers snapped photos. Then it was over. Harry and Hermione and the rest of the recipients left the dais and dealt with reporters before making their way to the bank of lifts. There was one last task today. Harry, Hermione, Flea, Mia, Charlus, and Dorea all found a lift together.

They rode down in silence to level 9. When the lift stopped, it said, "Level 9, Department of Mysteries." The doors opened and the family stepped out into the familiar hall. Ahead of them an unspeakable was leading Minister Tuft, Lord Black, Alphard, the Longbottoms, John, and Kathleen towards the door to the Department of Mysteries. The Potters followed, but not too closely. There was no need. Flea would get them in. Behind them the Abbotts left their elevator behind Sam who would help them in.

Harry followed Flea, who led them through the spinning room with the doors and into the death chamber. No one was really surprised, they'd been told what to expect. In front of them was the Veil of Death. The shrouds decorating it fluttered lightly in an unfelt breeze. Harry heard whispers from beyond the veil, but nothing distinct. He felt a slight pull towards the archway, but it wasn't enough to compel movement. It was interesting in an academic sense.

Once all the Order of Merlin recipients were in place, the victims and their families were brought in. One was on a floating stretcher, others were using crutches. One was missing an arm. They stood in front of the Order recipients, closer to the veil. Then Mulciber was brought in. He was stunned, having only been conscious for his trial. Mulciber was being levitated by two aurors. They paused before the veil.

"The criminal Leslie Mulciber has been found guilty of insurrection, sedition, murder, attempted murder, and conspiracy to commit the same by the full Wizengamot," Minister Tuft announced from her spot next to the veil. "He has been sentenced to death. Aurors, carry out the sentence."

The two aurors levitated Mulciber's body through the veil, his head pushing aside the fabric as he passed through to the other side. He never woke up, his body disappearing into the mists on the other side.

"The execution has been completed," Tuft stated. "Justice has been done. Thank you all for your attendance, and good day to you. The Unspeakables will show you out." Behind them, a rank of Unspeakables moved forward to assist those who didn't know their own way. Harry simply followed Flea, who led them back to the lifts and up to the atrium in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Harry and Hermione then flooed home.

ooOOOOoo

"It looks like Malfoy managed to get away with his little scheme," Harry observed acidly the next morning, after he finished reading the _Prophet_.

"Could they not find anything?" Hermione asked, looking up from her Charms text.

"Apparently, he's suspected, but even with the goblins' help, the Ministry couldn't prove it," Harry told her. "He pulled out large amounts of gold, which he claims he stored at home and spent on various things. Mulciber's followers deposited large amounts of gold at Gringotts, but weeks or even months later, and then it was never in obvious amounts."

"He didn't pull out Ǥ10,000 and then Yaxley deposited the same amount a day later," Hermione restated.

"Right," Harry agreed. "Malfoy pulled out Ǥ250,000 in September, and the deposits didn't start happening until October, and then it was Ǥ1,000 here, Ǥ2,000 there, to a variety of different people. They ended up with about Ǥ200,000 of unaccountable funds deposited in the accounts of Mulciber and his followers. At the same time, there were about Ǥ500,000 withdrawn by various dark families from their own accounts for various reasons, some of which can't be accounted for."

"It sounds like a mess," Hermione said flatly.

"It is," Harry nodded. "The aurors suspect Malfoy, but it's not enough to allow them to use _veritasserum_."

"I wonder what he'll try next," Hermione thought aloud.

"Whatever it is, I don't think we'll like it," Harry allowed as he turned to the rest of his mail. Most of it was routine correspondence, but one of them was a large envelope from France he was eager to get to. As he opened it, he saw it was blueprints and artist's renderings for a variety of large homes. He smiled. Still, he couldn't suppress that nagging thought that Malfoy wouldn't stop. He would be proved right.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6—Darkness Rising**

The first indication that something was amiss was Alphard stumbling through the floo into the family room at Edgewood on the evening of January 31. He was dishevelled, and his eyes were red and puffy. His robes were ripped and filthy.

"What happened to you?" Hermione asked when she came into the room, drawn by the sound of his arrival. As she helped him to his feet she noticed a bloody gash on his forehead.

"Lord Sirius' dead," he gasped out.

"Damn," she swore. "Let me go get Harry. Have a seat." She waved absently to the couch and hurried from the room. Harry hustled in with Hermione in tow a minute later.

"Alphard, I'm so sorry," Harry said, breathing heavily. "What happened?"

"Murder," Alphard said harshly, looking up from his spot on the couch. After a pause, he elaborated. "Lord Sirius, Orion, Lycoris, Regulus, and I were all in Diagon taking care of some business about an hour ago. Simple stuff, really – the importation of special herbs used in potions. We'd just left the merchant's when we were attacked from behind. There were two of them, and they caught us off guard."

"The killing curse?" Harry asked.

"They thought they wouldn't need it, apparently," Alphard snorted darkly. "The first volley of dark cutting curses hit Lord Sirius. One caught his off-hand, and the other was absorbed by the dragonhide armour he always wears in public under his clothes. That alerted us there was something wrong, and I managed to get off a brace of curses at the attackers. I hit one of them with a bone-exploder, but not before the other one grazed me with another cutter. Then he blasted me back into a pile of crates and fired a killing curse at Lord Sirius, who was only just getting back into the fight. When I got back up, the bastard portkeyed away."

"But you got one?" Hermione wanted to make sure.

"Damn right I did," Alphard nodded. "Aurors arrived a few seconds after it was over. They identified him as some Eastern European criminal wanted in a few countries."

"So Orion's the new Lord Black, then?" Harry asked. Alphard nodded.

"The prick," he added. "Him and Lycoris both. They fucking stood there and watched from inside the office. Didn't move to help at all."

"Almost like they planned it?" Harry guessed.

"More like they were warned and saw the wisdom of not becoming involved" Alphard spat.

"Do you have any idea who or why?" Harry asked.

"The who, though I can't prove it, is Abraxas Fucking Malfoy," Alphard answered. "The why, is to get Lord Sirius out of the way."

"He was drifting away from the dark," Hermione surmised.

"Slowly, but yes," Alphard acknowledged. "That import meeting we had was completely legitimate. The merchant even offered to get us in contact with someone who wasn't for some additional income and Lord Sirius declined."

"So now Orion's the new Lord Black," Harry repeated.

"A weak-willed bastard, who's controlled by his bitch of a wife, Walburga," Alphard laughed darkly.

"She's your sister," Harry pointed out.

"In name only," Alphard parried. "She was her father's daughter and proud of it. She is the epitome of Black as the family was under Phineas Nigellus. I wouldn't be at all surprised if she's the real one behind the deal with Malfoy."

"And Lycoris benefits how?" Harry asked.

"He's next in line if Orion were to prove to be… incompatible with Malfoy's view of how the family should be," Alphard revealed. "Plus, he can go back to supporting the dark openly, which he couldn't under Lord Sirius."

"Where was Regulus in all this?" Hermione asked.

"I don't think he was in on it," Alphard answered. "He seemed shaken up by it all. He was still in the office, too, but it looked like Lycoris was holding him back. When it was over, he ran out and kicked the body of the attacker. He was practically crying, he was so upset."

"He wouldn't have much to gain from it either," Harry reasoned.

"So Orion's the new Lord Black," Harry reviewed. "Malfoy probably ordered the hit, with Orion and Lycoris' blessings, to bring the Black Family back to the dark. Is that about it?"

"Yep," Alphard agreed, nodding his head and sighing.

"Are you going to be alright?" Hermione asked, sitting next to him.

"I'll be fine," Alphard chucked, smiling at last. "Two weeks ago, Lord Sirius officially recognized two cadet branches of the Black family: the Greys and the Whites. Gave us new names and everything. Lord Sirius's brother Arcturus is now Arcturus White, and I'm now Alphard Grey. Like the main family, we have our own manors, accounts, and everything."

"Why would he do that?" Hermione wanted to know.

"The Whites and I have been drifting away from the dark for some time," Alphard said simply. "Arcturus' children married into the Longbottom, Weasley, and Crouch families, all light families. Since they have no male heirs, that family won't last beyond Arcturus, and I think he's okay with that. As for me, as the eldest magical male descendent of Lord Sirius' brother Cygnus, I'm the head of the Greys, which I'm happy about."

"Why?" Harry asked.

"Well, it gives me some control over the Blacks, especially now," Alphard grinned. When he saw they were waiting for more, he elaborated. "He can't kick me out of the house now. All he can do is disown the entire Grey line, but he really can't even do that. I'm Walburga's de facto original head of house now, not Orion. I can dissolve her marriage to Orion if he does anything to piss me off. That would lose him a lot of money. If I were to dissolve Orion's marriage, he'd lose the bride price, which was substantial."

"But he'd still be rich," Harry protested.

"Not very," Alphard said. "I've seen Lord Sirius' will. The property passes to Orion, and Orion, Lycoris, and Regulus split half of the money evenly between the three of them. I get the other half of Lord Sirius' money because he really liked me. Orion would be well enough off to earn his wealth back if he plays his cards right, and to maintain his lifestyle in the meantime, but not enough to play politics with."

"Well that's interesting," Harry mused. He leaned back into the couch and stared at the fire, deep in thought. He had a lot to ponder: what this meant for the Wizengamot and wizarding politics in general, what Malfoy's long-term plans might be… Was this merely an adjustment that Malfoy would watch play out, or part of a larger scheme? Eventually, he decided he wouldn't deduce that immediately, and returned to the conversation.

"Is there anything you need right now?" Harry asked, leaning forward.

"No," Alphard replied. "I… I just needed to get away to a place I knew was safe."

"If you ever do need anything, let me know," Harry instructed. "We're here for you." Alphard nodded. "I do have one request…"

"What is it?"

"Keep your ears open," Harry begged. "It sounds like Regulus might be a conduit to keep abreast of what Orion, and by extension, Malfoy are doing. Don't stick your neck out, but if you hear anything – plans, talk, deals, whatever – let me know. We both know what Malfoy's capable of, and how he operates. As much as I don't like your cousins, I'd hate to see them go the way of Mulciber."

"I'll do," Alphard agreed, standing and shaking Harry's hand. Then, after a bit of fussing over by Hermione, he rose and left.

"We should let the Longbottoms know," Harry offered once he'd gone.

"Potters first?" Hermione asked, cocking her head toward the fireplace. Harry merely nodded.

ooOOOOoo

"Today we'll be introducing the _Verdimillious Tria_ charm," Harry said to his class on Wednesday, February 1. "This is the most advanced of the _Verdimillious_ charms, and the most useful in duelling." It was a class of Slytherin first years. Most of the Slytherins lit up with excitement. Anytime they could learn about fighting was alright with them. "Now, this charm emits green sparks, like the less advanced variations, but the sparks of the _Tria_ variant project the farthest and shock the most. This is primarily an offensive spell, however, I've found it to be almost equally useful on the defence, as it can break the concentration of the attacker."

"Like what Alphard Black did when Lord Black was assassinated?" one of the boys asked as he raised his hand.

"In a way," Harry allowed. "What really threw off the attackers was that Lord Black was wearing armour under his robes, and the curses that the attackers used in their first volley were mostly absorbed by those. They bought time for Alphard – whose last name is Grey now, I noticed the _Prophet _got that part wrong – to counterattack with curses of his own. In their surprise, one of the assassins got hit with a bone-exploding curse. In a fight, you should always keep moving, that way, if you're surprised it's not as damaging. If the attackers yesterday had pressed their attack instead of relying on their first volley only, Mr. Grey would've been the one needing to find cover, instead of the other attacker."

"Cowardly mudbloods," muttered one of the boys.

"What was that?" Harry barked, face darkening.

"Nothing, sir," the boy said, shrinking back.

"You said something. What was it?" Harry pressed.

"I said that muggleborns were cowardly," the boy admitted at last.

"Why would you say that?" Harry wanted to know.

"They attacked a pureblood lord in the back," the boy surmised. "That's pretty cowardly."

"While that part is factually correct, why do you assume the attackers were muggleborns?" Harry asked.

"The _Prophet_ said so," a girl interjected. Harry's eyebrows went up. Perhaps he hadn't read as much of the article as he should've. He'd been interrupted at breakfast by Alphard barging in with the latest auror report. It had been far more interesting reading than the _Prophet_.

"Obviously the _Prophet_ didn't have all the information," Harry said. He went over to his desk and pulled the auror report out of his bag. "This is the most recent auror report of the investigation. I was given a copy this morning." He glanced down finding the relevant passage and began to read. "The dead subject is Janos Kovacs, a Hungarian national, wanted in France, Germany, Greece, Hungary, and Russia for murder, attempted murder, conspiracy, assault, burglary, impersonating an auror, and other crimes." He skipped a few lines.

"Kovacs was 22, with black hair and brown eyes," Harry read. "He was a half blood, son of Istvan Kovacs, 45, pureblood, and Zsofia Kovacs, 44, half blood, both of Budapest. Kovacs had no known legitimate occupation, but was well known in the criminal underworld of Budapest and Prague as a mechanic – that is, one who could fix things." Harry folded the paper and replaced it in his bag.

"Maybe the other assassin was a muggleborn," another boy said.

"Perhaps, but how would the _Prophet_ have learned that if the aurors hadn't," Harry reasoned. "The _Prophet_ is well-known for shoddy reporting, and being open to bribery. I think it's more likely that's what's happening here."

"But everyone knows muggleborns are trying to subvert the proper order," another boy said.

"Really?" Harry asked, playing devil's advocate. "Let's look at the last two pureblood lords who've been killed." He held up one finger. "Most recently, Lord Black was killed by a half blood and one of unknown blood origin. The half blood was well known as a murder for hire. Since he's foreign, it's unlikely he had any interaction with Lord Black until he participated in his murder. In that case, I'd urge you to look at who could afford to hire two assassins in order to murder Lord Black. I can't think of any muggleborns who would have enough spare cash for that. I can think of a number of purebloods who do." He held up a second finger. "Next, Lord Potter, my grandfather. He was murdered by the Mulciber family, well-known purebloods. Mulciber also led a number of purebloods against the government, and ended up getting them killed. Rather than muggleborns being the threat to the status quo, it seems as though there is a pureblood element who want more control than they already have, and who think that overthrowing the government is the fastest way to get it. I think, instead of blindly believing whatever the _Prophet _prints, it would behove you to do some independent research and critical thinking to dig into why they might be printing what they do."

He could see he'd gotten through to many of them, and let it drop. Instead, he continued with the lesson he had planned.

ooOOOOoo

Tensions that hadn't really existed before the last day of January exploded over the course of the first two weeks of February. The murder was front page news for weeks, and the flames of hate were fanned by the _Daily Prophet_, which, without evidence, placed the murder of Lord Black at the feet of the muggleborn.

Alphard told Harry that when he'd tried to set the record straight in a letter to the editor, it wasn't printed. Key documents released by the aurors on the dead assassin were ignored by the press. On Monday, February 6, Alphard went down to the offices of the _Daily Prophet_ in person, but couldn't get a meeting with anyone.

All that week, Harry fielded questions from his classes, and occasionally other students he met in the halls, about the murder. Harry provided the teachers with copies of all the auror reports he was able to get his hands on. He provided them to the Hogsmeade Council as well. It seemed that the student body and the majority of Hogsmeade residents Harry encountered believed Harry's version and not the _Prophet_'s.

With Harry's help, Alphard started printing handbills, and received permission from various businesses in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade to put them up on their doors, correcting the record. After several were ripped down or defaced in Diagon, Hermione modified a permanent sticking charm so that they could only be taken down by the proprietor or the person who put them up. She also charmed them to be impervious to attempts to change the content or cover it up.

On the 11th, Harry arrived in Hogsmeade at nine o'clock for the monthly council meeting. The room was already packed, which was unusual. Since his accession to the earldom, he'd made a point to attend the council meetings in order that he'd be familiar with the council and the laws it passed. His creation of full time positions in the Hogsmeade government had greatly reduced the number of people who attended the council meetings usually. In the last three months, only people who were petitioning to get laws changed, or to prevent a certain law, attended. This time, however, there were perhaps two hundred people in the chamber, which made it nearly impossible for Harry to make it to the front.

"Hello, Mrs. Rakepick," Harry said genially after ten minutes of elbowing his way forward.

"Good morning, Lord Gryffindor," Mrs. Rakepick replied, slightly frazzled. "It's bedlam in here!"

"Any idea why so many decided to attend?" Harry asked, easing into his seat at the front of the gallery.

"It's to do with Lord Black's murder," Mrs. Rakepick sighed. "They've all seen the Prophet and read Mr. Grey's broadsides, and want answers."

"That's surprising," Harry said. "Any indication of which way the crowd's leaning?"

"Oh, who's to know," Mrs. Rakepick said, slapping the rail dividing the gallery from the bench. "Hogsmeade has never been a bastion of pureblood mania. Well, you'd know, but the pureblood manors are all to the south. They do their shopping primarily in London. We're half bloods mostly, with a healthy leavening of muggleborns."

"I've noticed you're all insular and fairly independent too," Harry added, then explained. "I mean, you don't have much use for the Ministry, and are happy to be left to your own devices."

"Used to be," Mrs. Rakepick laughed finally. "'Til you came along, anyhow. Now, government's growing on us. People like your administrative changes. There's no more waiting on a council meeting to fix your house and no more waiting on the aurors to find time to pop by to put paid to some rowdy children. Those constables've been a real help during the Hogwarts weekends, let me tell you!"

"Is that why most of the town seems to accept my explanation of Lord Black's murder over the _Prophet_'s?"

"Aye," Mrs. Rakepick agreed. "That, and it makes sense. People don't just up and murder someone with no reason. No muggleborn had a reason to kill Lord Black. The man was hardly living up to his name, after all. No… this stinks of pureblood mischief."

"Best get this over with, then," Harry sighed, looking around the room. "Would you like me to talk on the matter?"

"If you wouldn't mind," Mrs. Rakepick accepted. Harry merely nodded, then watched as she took her seat amongst the other council members. After a few minutes she banged the gavel, calling the council to order. "The February parliament of the Hogsmeade Council is now in session…"

ooOOOOoo

"Harry!" Hermione called, popping her head into the study. "We have a visitor." Harry looked up. "Alphard's here again."

"What's he up to?" Harry asked, standing to follow his wife.

"Says Malfoy's up to something," Hermione revealed as she led him to the family room.

"Hello," Harry said as he entered, and shook Alphard's hand. "What's going on?" he asked as they sat.

"Malfoy's on the move," Alphard said. "Regulus told me that the Blacks were being shanghaied into organizing a 'pureblood riot'."

"What?!" Harry asked incredulously.

"There was a meeting last week at Malfoy Manor," Alphard explained. "Orion was there with Lords Bulstrode, Carrow, and Lestrange. There were others, but Regulus doesn't remember who. Anyway, Orion called a meeting of his own at the Black Mansion where he laid it out for everyone. There's to be a mass rising of purebloods on Valentine's Day. They want to pressure the government into giving purebloods more rights and power."

"How could the purebloods possibly have any more rights?" Hermione asked.

"I'm sorry, that's what they'll demand," Alphard said. "What they'll do is try to pressure the government into taking away rights and power from half bloods and muggleborns so that the purebloods have more rights and power than them."

"Christ," Harry swore, rubbing his head in disbelief. "At what point does it become easier to just kill the fucker and deal with the consequences of that than trying to counter him every fucking month?"

"I assume that they're using the bile spewed by the Prophet as a lever by which to assume the mantle of the oppressed?" Hermione asked, rubbing her husband's back consolingly.

"That's about the size of it," Alphard nodded.

"So the purebloods march on the Ministry…" Harry began.

"Oh, no!" Alphard cut him off. "That's the best part… They're not gathering at the Ministry, they're gathering in Hogsmeade. That way, when they riot, nothing 'important' gets destroyed."

"So they can smear Harry at the same time," Hermione understood.

"What?" Harry asked.

"When they riot, they can paint you as an instigator and claim you started everything… or, if you do nothing, they can say you're an inept leader who can't keep people from getting out of line. Either the Ministry condemns you, or Hogsmeade does. They win either way."

"I think I need a second opinion on my options," Harry said, rising. He moved to the fireplace and started making calls. In ten minutes the Potters, Abbotts, and Longbottoms were all in Harry's family room. It was quite crowded.

"Thanks for coming on such short notice, everyone," Harry began once they'd settled. "Alphard's brought a serious problem to my attention and I'd like a little advice. Alphard, will you please explain what's going on?" Harry nodded to Alphard and stepped to the side as Alphard took the stage and rehashed what the dark families were planning. When he was done, he sat down again. "Any thoughts?" Harry asked, taking over again.

"You need some more constables, quick," Flea observed.

"That's a start," Harry agreed.

"What about a curfew?" Sam Abbott asked.

"What do you mean?" Harry wanted to know.

"Well, if you say that the streets are closed that day, you can arrest anyone out for violating curfew," Sam said.

"Mobbing," William Longbottom said simply.

"What?" Harry asked.

"What they're planning is referred to as an unlawful assembly under English law," William explained. "Under Scottish law it's referred to as mobbing. It's part of the rioting statute. Essentially, any assembly is unlawful if it seeks to pressure or coerce other people, damage property, or injure others."

"How do we prove that's what they're planning?" Flea asked.

"That's the beauty of the thing," William replied. "We don't have to prove they intended to do it. So long as it happens during their assembly, they can be arrested for it."

"Ah the beauty of the law," Sarah said, squeezing her husband. "You always were a wonderful barrister."

"So I hire more constables…" Harry began, but was interrupted.

"Deputize," William interjected. "You can deputize temporary constables."

"Yes, that," Harry resumed. "Order a curfew for all of the fourteenth so that no one's to go into the street, and arrest anyone out for violation of the curfew. If there's three or more and they get violent we arrest them…"

"If they don't go quietly it's no longer a mere crime, it's insurrection," William provided.

"Excellent," Harry grinned. "If they don't come quietly, we put them down… hard. Anyone here want to become a deputized Hogsmeade constable?"

ooOOOOoo

February 14, 1950 was a Tuesday. Harry stood with Hermione in the street outside the council house in Hogsmeade surrounded by nearly a hundred volunteers. They were friends and family, Hogsmeade denizens, and even some Hogwarts staff. It was cold, the frosty winter sun forcing the temperature slowly towards 40° F as it arced higher into the clear sky. Otherwise, the curfew was in effect, and the town was deserted.

"To you here assembled," Harry spoke loudly, "I hereby deputize you constables of Hogsmeade, and empower you to enforce the laws of the shire and the kingdom until such time as I release you from your duties." Applause spread across the crowd, but quickly died out. "Now that you're all official… you know your tasks. We have about an hour to prepare. Let's get to it."

Without another word, the crowd dispersed. Many of them first transfigured their robes into the prescribed uniform of the day: a reasonable copy of the blue Metropolitan Police overcoat and bobby helmet, complete with shiny silver badge. Others quickly moved off to take up their patrol positions or emplace the rune stones to create the temporary one-way anti-portkey and anti-apparition wards. These wards would allow people to apparate or portkey in, but not out. Anyone thinking they could hit and run, as the assassins in Diagon Alley had, would be sorely mistaken.

Alphard had gotten a fairly good idea of the plan from Regulus. Apparently, Orion was one of the key organizers, and Regulus was able to sit in on some of the meetings. Harry, with help from Flea and Lord Henry's portrait, had devised a plan to counter their movements.

Harry, along with Hermione, Flea, Lord Longbottom, Lord Abbott, Alphard, Neville, and Mrs. Rakepick went over the deployments again. Observation posts would be placed on the edge of town in each of the cardinal directions. Blocking forces would be positioned to seal the High Street at each end, with teams covering the larger side streets, should any of the malcontents be forced off the High Street. The main reserve would be stationed in buildings along the High Street, primarily in first floor windows, so they could fire spells down on the people in the street below.

"I don't have anything new to report," Alphard announced. "Regulus left yesterday for France on a business trip. Completely fictitious, of course… Just an excuse to not be here today."

"That's fine," Harry said. "He's helped us so much, and I'd hate to have to watch my shots to avoid hitting him. Things might get a little dicey here." He cast a quick _tempus_ and sighed. "We should probably get into position." Harry and most of the others would be with the blocking force closest to Hogwarts. Alphard had reported that the 'march' would begin in the middle of town and move north towards Hogwarts. It was important that Harry be the one to call them out for breaking the law. The constables all knew not to approach anyone until Harry had said his piece unless they just started firing off spells. If that happened, everyone was to move quickly to suppress the enemy and spare no one.

Harry and the others in the open disillusioned themselves, and then Harry made small talk with invisible constables for about fifteen minutes before the first pop of an incoming apparition could be heard down the street. Harry could make out a cloaked figure looking around about five hundred yards away. He – Harry assumed it was a he – quickly slunk back into an alleyway, but didn't hide himself completely. Harry could go drive him off right then, but he didn't want to scatter the opposition, he wanted to end it, and that meant a massive confrontation.

More pops sounded over the next few minutes as more 'marchers' arrived. They all looked around before quickly appearing to be anything but waiting around in public. Some faked shopping, walking up and down the street, looking in the windows, but never straying far from where the assembly would start. Others just hid in alleys like the first man, or struck up conversations. Eventually, the High Street looked fairly busy – busier than it usually looked on a Tuesday morning, though perhaps not as busy as it might've looked on a Valentine's Tuesday morning.

Slowly, the mob coalesced into four or five groups, loosely defined, around various ringleaders. Harry couldn't make out anyone in particular, but he knew Orion and some other Blacks would be in the mix. He didn't count, but estimated just over a hundred marchers.

Someone started to shout. Harry couldn't make out the words, but other marchers began paying attention. There were several cheers. Then a chant started, and the marchers began moving towards Harry's group.

It was at this point the marchers realized something was wrong. Except for their group, the streets were empty. There was no one present to hear their chants, no one present to be bullied or hassled, no one present to report what was happening. The mob began losing cohesion. There were murmurs, grumbles. Then a brief argument broke out in one corner and one of the marchers drew a wand. Harry almost disillusioned himself then, but watched as the marcher turned away. Harry thought their disagreement was over, then he realized what was going on. The marcher aimed the wand at a shop window and fired a blasting curse. The spell shattered the window. Harry moved.

In a second he was visible, firing two cannon blasts with his wand. The marchers all stared up the street as Harry and the rest of the constables appeared out of nowhere.

"You are all in violation of a curfew in effect in the village of Hogsmeade," Harry began, voice amplified by a _Sonorous_. The crowd was still about fifty yards away from Harry's group. "You are also in violation of the Riotous Assemblies Act of 1822. Lay down your wands and put your hands over your heads. You're all under arrest."

For a half a heartbeat, there was dead silence. Then two things happened at once. One in ten of the marchers tried to apparate or portkey away, and failed. Those at the head of the mob raised their wands and started casting. Two of the spells were the sickly green of the killing curse. Both were heading straight for him.

Harry effortlessly raised the street in front of his contingent up, forming a barricade and blocking the curses heading towards them. The constables rushed forward to man the wall and started firing back. As per his instructions, every shot was a cutting charm or piercing charm. The mob wasn't trying to stun, and his forces wouldn't either. Harry briefly felt a pang of guilt at the fate of those who'd tried to run, but suppressed it. They were still part of the problem, but they were also cowards. Harry drew confidence from Hermione, who was next to him raining charms down on the approaching mob.

Harry began with piercing charms – dangerous bolts that would rip out a heart or puncture a brain. He sent off two, dropping one of the mob before they reacted. Shield charms worked for a moment or two, but quickly collapsed under the rain of spells. Harry snuck in a cutting curse after deflecting a shower of brick rubble kicked up from a killing curse that struck the barricade in front of him.

The mob formed ranks and raised their own barricades to provide some modicum of protection to the spells of the constables. Then, in a nasty surprise, those on the first floors of the buildings on either side of the street opened fire as well. The mob started to fall back, but found their way blocked by more constables who pressed forward from side streets and alleyways.

The more enterprising in the mob transfigured objects into shields, or deflected attacks. Holes were blasted into the upper floors of the buildings lining the High Street in an attempt to drive back the constables. Some very advanced magic was being thrown around on both sides, most of it deadly.

Harry was having quite a time blocking incoming curses, usually with transfiguration, and sending out spells of his own. He was getting quite good at sending clouds of arrows into the mob. At the same time, he was constantly repairing the barricade and shouting, his voice still amplified by _Sonorous_, encouraging the mob to surrender.

At fifty yards and hooded and cloaked, the mob was just that. It was too distant to make out distinct voices or faces. Between the mob's barricades and other transfigurations he couldn't tell what the level of morale was on the other side. People would peak from behind cover and fire a few curses, then duck back to safety.

Lord Longbottom and Flea would reply by sending _bombarda maxima_'s towards the mob's barricades, blasting great holes into the works. Harry grimaced, thinking about the clean-up efforts this fight would require. He ruthlessly tamped down on that, and refocused on sweeping the streets clean of pureblood trash.

Harry switched up his conjuring from arrows to stones, raining them down from above where the mob was. It was clear who had the upper hand. Despite outnumbering the constables by a slim margin at the beginning of the fight, the mob's tactical position had been terrible. In the open, unprotected, and fuelled by anger, with no information and no plan, they attacked first. The constables had information and derived their plan from it. They had the element of surprise, good positioning, and kept their heads. The only thing going for them besides their initial numbers, was the mob's ruthlessness. While both sides were throwing dangerous and deadly spells, only the mob used unforgivable. Only the mob targeted buildings indiscriminately.

After about ten minutes, which seemed like an eternity, the constables got their first surrender. Carefully, one hand eased out from behind cover, followed by another. A head slowly joined them. All around, spells still flew, but this person was safe. It was a woman. She eased out from behind the cover, hands held high, and began walking cautiously toward Harry's barricade.

When she was about halfway there, a killing curse was aimed at her from the mob. Harry countered with a tripping curse that knocked her down. The killing curse sailed safely over her head. Harry acted quickly. Without thinking, he summoned her. She flew through the air, past curses on both sides. Harry broke the spell when she was safely on the friendly side of the constables' barricade. She was stunned before she could move. Harry rolled her over, hoping to identify her. He was in for a shock. As he pulled back the hood, he recognized her instantly.

"Hello, Walburga," Alphard said, glancing down at the body. He grinned a vicious smile that was almost all teeth. The goblins would've been proud. Alphard might be a Grey now, but he was still a Black at heart. Harry shook his head and went back to work. One of the constables would bind her and take her to the Hogwarts dungeons for safekeeping.

With gore washing down the streets, another person left the mob, hand high. Harry protected them as well, blocking a few curses meant for them, before summoning them the rest of the way.

"And that's the set," Alphard said after Orion had been stunned on the close side of the barricade. "Let's get him into a cell next to his wife." Harry shook his head, and went back to the fight. After Orion and Walburga had surrendered, the flow became a flood. It became difficult for Harry to protect all those wanting to surrender from the diehard purebloods who wouldn't. He lost only one, though, and was able to take ten more into custody.

By the time the mob stopped haemorrhaging fugitives, it numbered perhaps fifteen active members. This was the most dangerous phase of the battle for Harry and his constables. They'd have to leave the safety of their barricades and root out the last of the mob.

The noise had died down. Spellfire had almost stopped. There were a few random curses and charms flying around as the occasional head popped out to survey the situation. Harry tried one last time for a peaceful solution.

"Surrender now!" he called. "You're outnumbered and surrounded. If you continue to resist, you'll be killed. Surrender, and tell us who roped you into this mess. Let them take the blame. Don't die for nothing!"

The response was a volley of spells aimed roughly for Harry, who ducked behind the barricade, shaking his head. He quickly cast a patronus.

"Go to the other groups and tell them to fire lots of spells at the mob when I fire two cannon blasts. We're going on the offensive, and I need the mob distracted." When Harry was done giving his instructions, the stag nodded and bounded off across the battlefield and out of Harry's sight. In two minutes, it was back, nodding before it dissipated into a mist and floated away.

"Alright everyone!" Harry called. He fired two cannon blasts into the air. In response, a huge volume of spellfire rained down on the mob's positions. "Let's go!" With that, Harry was leaping over the barricade and racing down the High Street, the rest of his constables hot on his trail. He let off several _bombarda maxima_'s, blasting holes in the mob's barricade and pushing aside rubble and bodies in his way. Hermione was hot on his heels, with the other lords right behind her.

Passing through the barricade, he dropped and rolled, dodging some spellfire and countering with a brace of piercing hexes that dropped one of the mob. Rising to his knee, he peeked around a column of cobblestones and fired a cutting charm at another enemy, downing him. Behind him, constables were racing into the mob's defences and engaging the remaining enemies.

In moments, it was over. The last of the mob had been done in. Harry stood as did the others. More constables poured out of buildings or from alleyways. Some levitated the wounded, others clutched arms or limped, demonstrating that they'd been in the thick of the fight.

"Team leads!" Harry called out using a _Sonorous_. "Report the condition of your teams to me. Lord Potter's team, go begin interrogating the prisoners. Everyone else, let's clean up these bodies and start repairing our town." He removed the voice amplification and began transfiguring the barricades back into the pavement it had been. Flea helped. Five constables arrived, looking exhausted. "What are our casualties?"

"One dead, one incapacitated, three injured," Flea reported.

"Two dead, five in a bad way, and about a dozen injured," another said. He'd been leading the team on the east side of the High Street in the buildings.

"Two dead, seven badly hurt, nearly everyone else injured in some way," a woman replied. She'd been leading the team on the west side of the High Street in the buildings.

"One dead, three seriously wounded, five others lightly wounded," a man reported. He'd been in charge of those in the alleys and side streets to the west.

"Two dead, two seriously hurt, seven others needing help," another woman added. She'd been on the east in the alleys and side streets.

"One dead, none incapacitated, six or so hurt," Mrs. Rakepick said, reporting for the force opposite Harry's.

"We have nine of our own dead, eighteen badly hurt, and… Christ, we've lost almost everyone. We only had ninety-seven to start with." Harry glanced around the street. Constables in torn and dirty uniforms, streaked with blood were stacking pureblood bodies like cordwood to one side of the street. Others were tending to the wounded or carefully collecting and laying out their own dead. Smoke and steam washed over the street, the lingering effects of a fire the mob had started in an attempt to flush the constables out of some of the houses. Harry had never seen Hogsmeade look so bad. "This is my fault." He sagged visibly. Hermione wrapped her arms around him in a loose hug.

"Bullshit," Flea swore. "This is Abraxas Malfoy's fault."

"We're not supposed to know that," Harry reminded him.

"It's not like it's hard to deduce," Flea pointed out. "He's the political creature, not Orion Black… not Nott… not Yaxley. The Carrows don't have this kind of money to throw around, nor do the Flints. Malfoy's fingerprints are all over that _Prophet_ smear campaign, and whether the Ministry admits it or not, the murder of Sirius Black.

"Lord Potter's correct," Mrs. Rakepick agreed.

"Well," Harry sighed, nodding. "Mrs. Rakepick, I'm leaving you in charge of the clean-up. I'm going up to the castle to oversee the interrogation of the prisoners. Take down the temporary wards, get those needing medical attention to St. Mungo's, finish the clean-up. Direct the aurors, if any show up, to me. I'll want a full report after this is over." Mrs. Rakepick merely nodded and shooed him away.

Harry, Hermione, and Flea walked up the long drive to Hogwarts castle in silence. When they arrived in the dungeons, they found four constables on duty outside the cells, one of them was Alphard.

"Any problems?" Harry asked as they approached.

"Nope," Alphard replied with a grin. "We've got quite a haul here. Beside my esteemed brother-in-law and sister, we have Lord Avery, Lord and Lady Bulstrode, Lady Lestrange, the heir to the Yaxley lordship, a daughter of Lord Selwyn, a Flint son, two Nott cousins, and a Carrow relation."

"I'd like to speak to Lord Black first," Harry said.

"He's in with my sister," Alphard explained, pointing towards one of the cells.

"Awake?" Harry asked. Alphard merely nodded as he opened the door, the big key clanking loudly against the door as it swung open.

"Blood traitors!" came the shriek when they entered. "How dare you?"

"How dare I what?" Harry asked, staring right at her. Orion sat on the bed behind Walburga, seemingly without emotion, as she glared at them. If looks could kill, Harry, Hermione, Flea, and Alphard would be goners.

"How dare you impede the noble work of the House of Black and its allies!" shouted Walburga.

"Madam, your work is hardly noble," Harry laughed. "Being part of a mob is about as ignoble as you could be, though it was starting to look more like a riot before I stepped in, which I suppose is worse. Then you had the gall to resist arrest, destroy property, and murder law officers in the performance of their duties. Trust me, my barristers and I will be reviewing memories carefully, and bringing a full bevy of charges against the lot of you."

"This was an ambush!" Walburga bellowed. "We were tricked!"

"Ah, yes," Alphard said. "If your plot is foiled, it must be someone else's fault, never yours."

"You!" she cried, rounding on Alphard. "It was you! Somehow… Regulus… That bastard. When I get my hands on him…"

"Now, now," Harry cautioned. "Wouldn't want to have to add 'uttering threats' to the list of charges that'll be stacked against you. I've become very good at the law recently, especially Scots law." He smiled brightly at her in a disarming way.

"Oh, and, sister?" Alphard rejoined. "Should anything happen to Regulus… anything unfortunate… consider your marriage annulled. And don't even think of trying anything against me. I recently amended my will. Should I die, Lord Gryffindor inherits the headship of the Greys. Cygnus is still too young." Harry quirked an eyebrow at Alphard. He hadn't know that little tidbit. It was awfully nice of Alphard. Still, he played along.

"And if Alphard should met a sticky end, your marriage will still be forfeit, and then I'll cast you out of the family," Harry added.

"NO!" Walburga shrieked. Harry sighed. He'd hoped that by travelling into the past his time hearing Walburga Black shouting was over, but it seemed like that was not to be.

"Regardless," Harry said. "Will you be taking the _veritasserum_ willingly, or will we be administering it by force?"

"You can't use that against our will!" Walburga scoffed, sure of her position. "We're purebloods."

"You seem to be operating under the mistaken belief that I'm a Ministry representative," Harry grinned. "That proscription only applies to Ministry investigations. The Hogsmeade Council recently sent me a bill allowing the use of _veritasserum_ by the Hogsmeade Constabulary in any investigation of a crime that can come before the court in Hogsmeade. Except for the murder charges which must be brought before the Wizengamot, the crimes I witnessed today certainly apply. I do love local government. I'm still fairly confident we can get a conviction on murder as well, as evidence collected for use in other trials, such as council courts, is admissible in court at the Wizengamot. I checked. Either way, your truthful testimony will be heard by the Wizengamot."

"Give me the damned vial," Walburga snapped, defeated but still defiant. Behind her, her husband merely nodded.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7—Eruption**

When Harry finished interrogating the prisoners he had a very good idea of what had been planned and what crimes had been committed by the surviving members of the mob. Abraxas Malfoy's name was all over everything. He had returned to Hogsmeade around mid-afternoon, leaving the constables, led by Hermione, Alphard, and Flea, to clear up loose ends, mostly detailing financial transactions so that Harry could make a case for Malfoy's conspiracy. While the town itself was looking much better, he had been dismayed to see aurors in the middle of arresting his constables.

"What the hell are you doing?" Harry asked the nearest auror, who turned around and spotted Harry.

"We're here to arrest the murderers," the auror replied.

"The murderers have already been arrested," Harry said, fuming. "Release my constables immediately. Where's your supervisor?"

"I don't answer to you!" the auror said. "Where were you, anyway?"

"Actually, as a member of the Wizengamot, you do answer to me," Harry snapped. "I was here, leading my constables in protecting my fief. Those people," he waved his hand over the piles of bodies, "were in violation of a curfew that had been imposed today, and had begun destroying the town when I ordered them to stand down and attempted to arrest them for mobbing. They responded by firing curses – including the killing curse – at myself and my duly appointed constables. At that point, I and my constables defended ourselves. We ended up arresting twelve members of the mob who surrendered. I will be providing memories and _veritasserum_ testimony of today's events at the trials of those who we have in custody."

"So you're the ringleader?" the auror asked. "Good enough for me." Without waiting for a response he drew his wand and began to point it at Harry.

"That would be a mistake, son," Flea said, coming up behind Harry with his own wand drawn. "On what charge would you be arresting Lord Gryffindor?" The auror paused, confused.

"Murder and conspiracy to commit murder," the auror responded. "Ninety-one counts. It's even worse, cause the lot of them are purebloods."

"Before you make a fool of yourself, take us to your supervisor," Flea ordered. "Then, go back to the Ministry and get the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and the Head Auror. I want to sort this out now."

"Doesn't matter to me who arrests you," the auror shrugged, then led the two down the street. It didn't take a genius to find the supervisor. He was stood in the middle of the High Street arguing with Lord Abbott and Lord Longbottom.

"That will be fine, auror," Flea said. "Now, go get the Ministry leadership. They need to be here."

"I don't…"

"Before you finish that sentence, know that if you don't do it, I'll personally have you fired, by law, at the next Wizengamot session," Flea barked. The auror blanched, then apparated away. Harry and Flea approached the three wizards in the street.

"Excuse me," Harry began, interrupting them. The supervising auror spun around, wand out. Harry and Flea already had their wands out, but down at their sides. "Why are you here?"

"We're restoring the peace," the supervising auror said.

"When did you arrive?" Harry asked.

"About ten minutes ago," the auror replied.

"Was there anyone breaking the peace when you arrived?" Harry asked.

"Not right then," the auror answered. "But there was a stack of bodies, almost all purebloods, and a battle had clearly taken place."

"So you began an investigation?" Harry continued.

"Yes," the auror replied.

"What have you uncovered so far?"

"An army of wizards and witches in blue coats butchered a procession of purebloods as they stood in the street," the auror said confidently. "We've begun arresting the rebels."

"What rebels?" Harry asked, angry. "The people in the blue coats are my duly sworn constables, and as local law enforcement officials were keeping the peace in Hogsmeade under my personal supervision."

"So you're the leader?" the supervising auror asked.

"Before I answer that question, I have one for you," Harry said, seething. "How did you know to come here? Who specifically came to the Ministry and reported what happened here?" Before the auror could answer, four pops were heard. Harry looked over and saw the auror had brought the Head Auror and Director of Magical Law Enforcement… and Abraxas Malfoy.

"Arrest that man!" Harry shouted, pointing at Malfoy.

"I would say the same of you, Lord Gryffindor," Malfoy sneered.

"Settle down, everyone," the director said. He was a large man, well built. He had dark hair flecked with grey, and wore charcoal grey robes. Beside him, the Head Auror was slightly younger, perhaps forty-five, and wore navy robes with pinstripes. They both looked concerned. "Lord Malfoy came in today, saying he'd just witnessed a battle in Hogsmeade."

Malfoy didn't look any worse for wear. The constables and marchers all looked at least dishevelled. Most had ripped clothing and some blood, either theirs or others, spattering them.

"That's odd," Harry said. "Did anyone see you?"

"I'm sure quite a few people saw me," Malfoy replied, unconcerned.

"Lord Malfoy, from where did you observe this mayhem, and how did you leave?"

"I was standing right over there," Malfoy lied easily, pointing to where Mrs. Rakepick's blocking force had been waiting before the battle. "I had been shopping and was with a number of other bystanders. When some local toughs started casting at the purebloods, I apparated away. I had to go to settle my nerves first, so I went home for a drink. Then I realized I must alert the authorities."

"Where did you apparate from?" Harry pressed.

"Where I was standing," Malfoy supplied without hesitation.

"Who cast the first spell?" Harry asked.

"I didn't see," Malfoy replied. "From one of the alleys I believe."

"That's funny," Harry said, a smug grin settling on his face. "You see, if your story is true, you've just admitted to breaking the law and performing the impossible."

"Impossible!" Malfoy snapped back.

"First, there were no bystanders, as there's been a curfew in effect since seven o'clock this morning," Harry laid into him. "Second, if you had been here, which I'm fairly certain you weren't, you would've been standing right in the middle of a force of Hogsmeade constables awaiting the pureblood marchers. None of them reported seeing you, and had they, they would've arrested you for violating curfew. Finally, apparition from anywhere in the village was impossible after eight o'clock, as ward stones blocked apparition and portkey out of Hogsmeade after that time until just a few hours ago, meaning you couldn't possibly have apparated from there. Now that you've lied in front of the Head Auror and the Director of Magical Law Enforcement, and we've established that you were not, in fact, present during the events of today, I'd very much like to know how you knew a battle occurred here."

The two law enforcement officials looked from Harry to Malfoy, clearly wanting to know how he'd known something was up. Malfoy's face turned purple with rage, but he didn't say a word. After a few moments, Harry pressed his advantage.

"In fact, according to the twelve survivors from the riot we have in custody, you, Lord Malfoy, are the organizer and financial backer of their little group," Harry said, goading him. "They've named names, divulged bank transactions, provided meeting times and topics. You're all over their stories. While you can't pump bribes into the Ministry anymore, you've certainly done your best with the _Daily Prophet_, haven't you?"

"They're clearly lying," Malfoy said through gritted teeth. "The Malfoy name is impeccable."

"More impeccable than the word of Lord Avery, Lord and Lady Black, Lord and Lady Bulstrode, Lady Lestrange, George Yaxley, Miranda Selwyn, Ralph Flint, Peter and Hannah Nott, and Lyle Carrow?" Harry asked smugly. "All of them threw you under the proverbial bus."

"They're probably delusional with grief, having just watched their families be butchered," Malfoy growled. "It sounds like you were lying in wait for them. You planned to butcher them! Thomas," he said, turning to the director. "They conspired to murder the flower of British purebloods! Are you going to let them get away with this?" The director glanced back at Harry, quirking an eyebrow. There was more story to tell.

"If you were a smart man, Malfoy, you'd have realized it means we had a man on the inside," Harry replied. "We've been monitoring your activity for some time. We had at least a week to counter your 'march', and to that end, we did conspire… to uphold the law in my fief." Harry sighed. "I fear you won't be satisfied by all that, though. To that end, I and my constables will be providing memory evidence of the confrontation. This will include the march up the High Street, where the crowd chanted menacing chants, such as 'down with mudbloods'. It will also include when one of the crowd fired a blasting curse at a business. Finally, it will include when I announced myself and demanded they stand down, only to be met with no less than two killing curses.

"Did I conspire?" Harry asked. "You're damned right I did. I conspired to protect the citizens of Hogsmeade from bastards like you. I conspired to prevent the innocent people of my town from being injured by a gang of lawless ruffians intent on hurting them because many of them aren't as pure of blood as you might like. I conspired to end the confrontation as quickly as possible, as safely as possible."

"You call nearly a hundred dead purebloods safe!?" Malfoy gaped.

"I call nine dead constables a tragedy for this town. However, without information, planning, and preparation it could've gone much worse," Harry replied. "I don't give a damn about your pureblood rioters. As Earl of Monar, my concern is for the safety of Hogsmeade and its citizens. I managed to confine the violence to a part of one street, and the number of citizens in danger to under a hundred. I managed to prevent the escape of those responsible, and capture any who allowed it, so that they can be prosecuted to with the utmost rigor of the law. And now, thanks to you showing up, I've managed to expose you as a liar, the chief conspirator, and an all-round despicable human being, pureblood or no. You're on my turf, Malfoy. If the aurors don't arrest you, I bloody well will."

Malfoy's eyes shot up, suddenly scared. Without waiting for the verdict of the director, he disapparated with a very loud pop.

"I see you've learned quite a bit from the previous Lord Potter, Lord Gryffindor," the director said with a smirk.

"That's not all I've learned," Harry said seriously. "I've learned that with the backing of three lords and two other sitting Wizengamot members, I can get Ministry employees fired for not doing their jobs correctly. I've asked your supervising auror to release my constables, but he hasn't done so. If you don't override his instructions in the next five minutes, you'll both find yourselves out of a job come Saturday. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal, Lord Gryffindor," the director replied, with a warm smile. He turned to his Head Auror. "Quincy, go have Franklin pull his head out of his arse and release the Hogsmeade constables immediately with our apologies." The Head Auror nodded and hurried off. "I owe you an apology as well, milord. Lord Malfoy is a slippery fellow. I've been trying to get him on bribery charges for years. Fortunately, that's now mostly stopped thanks to your new law. Still, when he arrived at the Ministry claiming a battle had occurred, we of course had to check out his accusations, and it seems that Auror Franklin took his duties a little too seriously. Obviously, more investigation was required. I'll be reminding him of that when I debrief him later."

"I'll be sending you evidence we collect in the course of our own investigations," Harry said. "I hope that when we're done with our twelve guests, you might wish to prosecute them for crimes we can't… like murder, rebellion, and conspiracy to commit both. You also might want to investigate their bank accounts to track the money that changed hands to support this whole mess."

"Of course, Lord Gryffindor," the director agreed. "I can't wait to nail Lord Malfoy to the wall." He looked nearly gleeful at the windfall he was anticipating.

"Now, unless there's anything else, I have a town to put back together," Harry said.

ooOOOOoo

Saturday, February 18, was the regularly scheduled Wizengamot session. Harry had spent a rather busy week preparing trials for the twelve purebloods being held at the castle. Those had been held Thursday and Friday, resulting in convictions. The trials had been closed to the public for two reasons: first, there wasn't enough room in the courtroom for the number of people who wanted to attend; and second, Harry was eager to keep the press out, so Malfoy couldn't learn how he'd gotten convictions. The information released by the court were the charges, the outcomes of the trials, and the sentences.

Not deterred, Malfoy and what few remaining allies he had spent the remainder of the week effectively controlling the press. The _Quibbler_ was not yet a publication, so the only media outlets available to the magical community were the _Daily Prophet_ and the _Wizarding Wireless Network_. Malfoy effectively controlled both, feeding them stories, setting up interviews with 'pureblood eyewitnesses', and shaping the public narrative against Harry.

Because he was waiting for the trials to conclude, Harry hadn't passed along his evidence to the Ministry yet, so the Director of Magical Law Enforcement couldn't act. It did collect its own evidence from Gringotts and other sources, and it did look into the 'pureblood eyewitnesses' interviewed by the _Prophet_ and WWN, but they weren't enough to make any charges stick.

By the time Harry, Hermione, and their friends arrived for the Wizengamot session, they had to fight through an angry crowd of people in the Ministry lobby. As angry as the general public was – except for the population of Hogsmeade, who knew the truth – the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was entirely on Harry's side, and held the crowd back, allowing Harry's party to proceed unmolested to the lifts. There, in a pleasantly surprising turn, Harry was approached by Auror Franklin, the supervising auror who'd tried to arrest his constables, who apologized profusely and genuinely for his actions in Hogsmeade.

Harry made it the rest of the way to the Wizengamot chambers without incident, and took his seat, unsure what Malfoy had planned, but confident that he could meet and handle whatever Malfoy threw at him.

"Can you hand me the evidence?" Harry leaned over and asked Hermione. In response, she passed him a bag. He glanced inside and smiled, leaning it against his chair.

"Ready?" she asked, looking a little nervous. Harry was reminded of Hermione before a test. They'd worked hard at the Hogsmeade trials, supervising everything, but staying above the actual fray. The investigative work was led by Flea and Alphard. The prosecution was handled by Lord Longbottom, for which Harry was grateful. Mrs. Rakepick and the entire council sat, with Harry's blessing as the judges. While the defendants were provided with a top notch defence team, comprised of some of the finest legal minds in the country, the council, without consulting Harry, returned guilty verdicts against every defendant, and remanded them to the custody of Harry, charging him with holding them in the Hogwarts dungeons for five years unless the Ministry offered to prosecute them for higher charges, in which case they were to be remanded to the custody of the Ministry until such time as they would complete their Ministry sentences or be cleared of charges there.

The amount of research Hermione had done: cross-checking memories, making and reviewing transcripts of _veritasserum_ testimony, reviewing transcripts of listening charms in the dungeon cells, organizing the results of performing _priori incatatem_ on all the wands, organizing everything into a useable whole so that it made sense… It had led to a lot of late nights, but it had built a rock-solid case, and would be available for use here as well.

The Chief Warlock called the Wizengamot to order. The room was unsurprisingly light on attendance. All the light seats were there, fourteen in all. All the grey seats were there, save Black, for a total of eleven. Only two dark seats were present: Malfoy and Burke – well, three if one counted the Rosier seat Malfoy held by proxy since Mr. Rosier was imprisoned at Azkaban.

Lord Avery, Lord Black, and Lord Bulstrode, of course were all in the Hogwarts dungeons. Mr. Carrow, Lord Flint, Lord Lestrange, Lord Nott, Lord Parkinson, Mr. Rowle, Lord Selwyn, Mr. Travers, and Lord Yaxley were all dead. In a stroke, Harry had neutered the dark faction of the Wizengamot. The Abbott, Longbottom, and Potter seats were firmly in Harry's camp. Peter, Kathleen, Alphard, and of course, Hermione were with him as well. Abbot brought with it the Bones and Macmillan seats. Crouch, Doge, Prewett, and Weasley were light, but not in Harry's circle, nor the Abbotts, Potters, or Longbottoms. Harry had no idea what the grey seats thought.

Unsurprisingly, Malfoy was the first on his feet to be recognized. He looked far more polished than he had on Valentine's Day. He should, Harry reasoned. He'd had the rest of the week to work on his presentation.

"Witches and Wizards of the Wizengamot," Malfoy said cleanly. "A tragedy has befallen our kind. Ninety-one of our most upstanding citizens were horrifically murdered this past Tuesday. Three of the families which held seats in this body have been extinguished permanently and no heirs exist to replace them. Together we mourn the loss of the families Parkinson, Rowle, and Travers. I would suggest that we seat the replacements for our other lost lords, but the qualified heirs are all being outrageously jailed, along with three of our members who were not heinously murdered, by Lord Gryffindor simply for defending themselves. How can we go on governing with so many of our most prestigious seats vacant? This body must – MUST – demand the release of those prisoners unlawfully held by Lord Gryffindor, if only to restore the integrity of this august body." Having made his opening argument, he sat, the very picture of dignified outrage.

Harry looked around, gauging the mood of the room. Beside Malfoy, Burke looked indignant. Several of the grey seats also looked upset. Many, including the Crouch, Doge, Prewett, and Weasley seats, were withholding judgement until Harry had had his say. Harry didn't disappoint. He stood.

"Witches and Wizards of the Wizengamot," Harry opened, echoing Malfoy for the only time that day. "I agree a tragedy has befallen us. I appreciate the effort Lord Malfoy took in crafting that story, and the lies many of you may have read the past few days in the _Daily Prophet_. It took truly a prodigious intellect to make such lies believable.

"On Tuesday last, one hundred three pureblood wizards and witches travelled to Hogsmeade," Harry said, beginning his tale. "I had been informed prior to that date that Lord Malfoy had been goading the dark families into rioting there. He would then use the resulting violence as an excuse to increase Ministry control over non-purebloods, whom he would blame for the incident. How he planned to convince the Wizengamot of the necessity of those increases was not explained." He kept calm, controlling his breathing, his volume, and his emotion. He was passionate, but not unhinged.

"Having been forewarned, I, in my role as Earl of Moran, fief holder of the shire of Hogsmeade, prepared to maintain order. To that end, I asked the council to raise a constabulary, duly empowered and charged to enforce the laws of the shire. This was done. The council also, at my request, ordered a curfew for that day, and laid out the penalties for violating it as one day's imprisonment. Having been informed of the murder of Lord Sirius Black, and how his assassin escaped via portkey or apparition, I had installed temporary one-way anti-apparition and anti-portkey wards, which would prevent any lawbreakers from escaping justice.

"On Tuesday, myself and ninety-six constables awaited the arrival of the mob. We were hidden, so as not to influence the mob's behaviour. We remained hidden as the mob congregated, in violation of the clearly posted curfew order. We remained hidden as the mob marched and chanted vile slurs against half-bloods and muggleborns. Only when the mob, unprovoked, began to destroy property I was charged with protecting, did we reveal ourselves. We demanded they cease their actions, informed them they were violating the curfew, and proceeded to arrest them. They responded by firing curses at us, including two killing curses. When confronted with violence, my constables and I responded in kind. Ninety-one members of the mob died during the confrontation. Twelve surrendered and were taken into custody. Nine constables lost their lives during the battle, and more were wounded. Thankfully, they are all now either completely recovered or well on their way. I can, of course, provide proof that what I have said is accurate and truthful. I would volunteer to repeat my story under _veritasserum_, and have more than ninety memories of the event which I can show.

"The twelve members of the mob taken into custody were charged with mobbing, conspiracy to commit an unlawful assemblage, destruction of property, and vandalism. After a thorough investigation, the evidence was presented before the Hogsmeade council, and they were convicted. I had no part in the trial. I merely carried out the sentence that was handed down by the council. They have been sentenced to between three and ten years confinement for their various crimes." Harry surveyed the room, looking especially at the light and grey seats. Some of them were nodding, others looked stunned. Now it was time for the kicker. All the cards were going down.

"As the feudal lord of Hogsmeade, I represent the aggrieved: those nine constables murdered in the performance of their duties and their families, and those constables injured in the line of duty and their families. As murder and insurrection are crimes only the Wizengamot can adjudicate, I hereby request that charges be pressed against the twelve members of the mob held in my custody by the Ministry of Magic. I have evidence that they committed murder, conspiracy to commit murder, insurrection, conspiracy to commit insurrection, and other various crimes." That in and of itself was not surprising to most, and Harry saw more nods. Then he played his last card. "I also hereby request that charges be pressed against Lord Abraxas Malfoy by the Ministry of Magic for conspiracy to commit murder, conspiracy to commit insurrection, and sedition," Harry could barely be heard over the outcry in the room, "which I also have evidence for. Thank you." He sat at last, finished with his preliminary response.

Around him, the Wizengamot was in chaos. Everyone was shouting at everyone else. In the gallery, the public and reporters were also shouting. It was pandemonium. It took the Chief Warlock nearly ten minutes to get the room back under control.

"Lord Gryffindor," the Chief Warlock said gruffly after restoring order. "Those are serious charges. I assume you have evidence to back them up? After all, one does not accuse a lord sitting in the Wizengamot of such crimes on a whim."

"Quite," Harry replied, glancing at Malfoy and remembering their interactions in Hogsmeade on Tuesday. He hefted the bag Hermione had given him, dropping it onto the desk in front of him with a thunk. "I have evidence from all twelve trials. They're memories, so I will require the court pensieve to show them." He nodded towards the unused stone basin that sat before the Chief Warlock's seat. "If I may?"

"This is preposterous!" Malfoy shouted, rising, even as the Chief Warlock nodded at Harry. "I'm afraid this will have to wait until a later session. After all, I haven't been accused of a crime." Harry began moving down to use the pensieve.

"I believe Lord Gryffindor just did that," Flea pointed out. "You merely haven't been arrested yet."

"The Department of Magical Law Enforcement…" Malfoy sputtered.

"Would be happy to arrest you as soon as this session of the Wizengamot is completed," the Director interjected from his seat next to the Chief Warlock. Harry had worked with him a bit over the last few days and learned that his name was Clancy Edwards, and that he was a half-blood with a large family. Harry had actually shared classes with his son Raymond, who had graduated from Hufflepuff the previous spring.

"If I may explain, Chief Warlock?" The Chief Warlock nodded. "When Lord Malfoy accompanied myself and the Head Auror to Hogsmeade on Tuesday, he was immediately accused of scheming by Lord Gryffindor. At that point, my department had no proof, and only the word of Lord Gryffindor. He did suggest we look into some things, and provided us with a few leads. We were able to obtain bank records from Gringotts and a few muggle institutions that show large outflows of cash from Lord Malfoy's accounts. The patterns of transactions match up with inflows of cash to the families of those arrested or killed in Hogsmeade on Tuesday. While not conclusive, it would be enough for us to arrest Lord Malfoy."

By the time Director Edwards was done with his explanation, Harry had emptied the contents of the vials in the bag into the pensieve. When the director sat down, Harry tapped the runes on the outside of the pensieve, and it began projecting into the chamber. The first memory had been taken from Lord Avery. By the time he'd supplied it, he was a broken man, having been interviewed under _veritasserum_ for over four hours.

The memory began when Lord and Lady Avery, along with a few other family members apparated into the High Street in Hogsmeade. They weren't the first to arrive, but they weren't the last either. Lord and Lady Avery moved away from their family, pretending to shop.

"How many of these people are with us?" Lady Avery asked her husband in the memory. "It looks like all, or nearly so."

"It doesn't matter," Lord Avery replied. "They're there, in their homes and shops. We'll kill a few, maybe more. Maybe by the end of the day this whole bloody town will be aflame."

"That would make Abraxas happy," Lady Avery observed. "Awful nice of him to let you lead this, isn't it?"

"Hardly," Lord Avery snorted. "The fucking pansy just doesn't want to get his hands dirty with any real fighting. Oh, he's happy enough to pay to get his way, but Merlin-forbid he do any actual work."

"It's getting harder to pay your way," Lady Avery pointed out. "What with those new anti-bribery laws in the Ministry…"

"We'll fix those soon enough," Lord Avery replied. "It's the only way to convince half-bloods to see the light of pureblood salvation. Fortunately, that proscription doesn't apply to members of the Wizengamot. It allowed Abraxas to give me quite a nice 'donation' for agreeing to lead this… As if I'd need it. I can't wait to hurt that bastard Potter. He's fucked with the dark purebloods for the last time." He glanced up and down the street. "I think everyone's here. Let's get this started." Lord Avery pulled his wife over to a few other people, and then went to get more. Within a minute, twenty people had congregated, and more were closing in.

The rest of the memory played out as Harry remembered. Lady Avery died from a conjured boulder falling on her about halfway through the fight. Lord Avery, cowering behind the barricades and conjuring a stone shield to protect him from fire from above, was one of the last to surrender, but he still had to dodge spellfire from his own side to make it to safety.

Several other brief memories from Walburga Black and Ralph Flint played next, each of them mentioning Malfoy in their casual conversations before the riot, implicating him in conspiracy and bribery. Harry only showed the riot in its entirety the first time through. This wasn't about proving the guilt of those at Hogwarts, that would come later, once they were transferred to Ministry custody. No, this was about burying Abraxas Malfoy once and for all.

Those memories faded out, and a new memory appeared. It showed Lord Avery, bound to a chair in the dungeons of Hogwarts. Harry was standing there with Mrs. Rakepick, Lord Longbottom, another barrister, and a constable, who stood with a sealed dose of _veritasserum_. Harry made sure to dot all the i's and cross all the t's. He'd obtained the _veritasserum_ from a reputable company, had them provide serial numbers for each vial, and seal the vials with Ministry approved seals. He noted who got which doses, when, and he double checked everything.

"Constable, administer the _veritasserum_," Mrs. Rakepick ordered in the memory. The constable broke the seal and forcefully poured the potion down Lord Avery's throat. The prisoner immediately took on the dazed look of someone under the influence of the potion. "Lord Longbottom, would you like to begin the interrogation?"

"Thank you," Longbottom replied, moving forward. He had a list of questions. He started reading. "What is your name?"

"Lord George Walter Avery, Baron Fanhope," Avery replied vacantly.

"How many people did you kill on Tuesday?" Longbottom asked.

"I don't know," Avery replied.

"Did you kill people on Tuesday?" Longbottom corrected.

"Yes," Avery replied.

"How many are you certain you killed?" Longbottom asked.

"One," Avery replied.

"Who?"

"I don't know his name."

"With what spell did you kill that person?" Longbottom asked.

"The killing curse."

"Thank you," Longbottom replied. "Why were you in Hogsmeade today?"

"To destroy it," Avery said.

"How did you plan to do that?"

"We were supposed to start a fight with some locals, then claim they started it," Avery said.

"What actually happened?"

"There were no locals to start a fight with," Avery explained. "Max Yaxley fired a spell into a business to begin the violence instead."

"Who approached you with the idea to destroy Hogsmeade?" Longbottom asked next.

"Orion Black," Avery answered.

"He raised the idea with you?"

"Yes."

"Was it his idea to destroy Hogsmeade?"

"No."

"Whose idea was it?"

"Lord Abraxas Malfoy's," Avery said.

"Did you meet with Lord Malfoy to discuss destroying Hogsmeade?"

"Yes. Three times."

"Who else was at the meetings?"

"Lord Orion Black, Lycoris Black, Lord David Bulstrode, Lord Eugene Flint, Ralph Flint, Lucius Flint, Lord George Lestrange, Lord John Nott, Geoffrey Nott, Peter Nott, Lord James Parkinson, William Parkinson, Peter Parkinson, Lord Daniel Selwyn, Zacharias Selwyn, Lord Thomas Yaxley, George Yaxley, Jonathan Carrow, Lyle Carrow, Timothy Rowle, Quentin Rowle, Ichabod Travers, and Frank Travers," Avery intoned. "Also, my son, Hugh Avery."

"Why did you agree to attack Hogsmeade?"

"So that purebloods could take over the government, and we could put half-bloods and muggleborns in their proper place."

"And what place is that?"

"Half-bloods to serve, and muggleborns to slave."

"What was Lord Malfoy's plan to reform the government?"

"Eliminate the light seats on the Wizengamot," Avery described blandly. "Pressure the grey seats into allowing the dark lords to form an oligarchy replacing the Wizengamot."

"How was he planning to eliminate the light seats?"

"Assassination… murder… Whatever it took."

"How did he know this would work?"

"It worked with Lord Sirius Black," Avery said. "It would work with the light houses, too."

"To what end?"

"The enrichment and empowerment of the dark noble houses."

"Did Lord Malfoy say why he had decided to do this now?"

"Lord Gryffindor was becoming a nuisance," Avery explained. "He seized control of Hogwarts. He became lord of Hogsmeade. He got a seat on the Wizengamot. All because a sword answered his call. What he did with his new power was worse. He's trying to overthrow the proper order of things. He's a blood traitor of the worst sort."

"What proper order?"

"Purebloods rule, half-bloods serve, muggleborns slave, muggles die."

"Did money change hands?"

"Yes."

"How much, from whom, and to whom?"

"I received Ǥ50,000 from Lord Abraxas Malfoy. I was told others would receive payments as well from Lord Malfoy, though who and how much wasn't revealed to me."

"So, to sum up, yourself and the other dark houses were approached by Lord Malfoy and convinced to incite a revolution to overthrow the government and replace it with a dark oligarchy. You agreed to do this because you dislike Lord Gryffindor and his stance vis a vis pureblood rule, and because Lord Malfoy paid you Ǥ50,000. Once in Hogsmeade you killed someone with a killing curse. Am I correct?"

"Yes."

That memory faded away, to be replaced by another. This time, Harry paraded the Wizengamot through all twelve _veritasserum_ confessions. Each one of them implicated Malfoy as the ringleader, described the same plan to overthrow the government, and included the fact that they were paid varying sums between Ǥ25,000 and Ǥ75,000 galleons to do so. As the last memory faded out, and before anyone could do anything, Mr. Burke stood and cleared his throat. The Chief Warlock recognized him.

"That is quite the bit of magic you've performed there," he said haughtily.

"The only magic was the _veritasserum_," Harry shrugged coolly.

"If that's what it was…" Burke replied.

"I'd be happy to provide the Ministry with every handler's collective memories from production, to testing, to purchase, to use. I foresaw that argument, collected the necessary memories, and have them here. I believe they'll demonstrate that they were, in fact, _veritasserum_," Harry replied smiling.

"Well then," Burke tried next. "It's a pity that none of the last twelve memories you drug us through can be admitted before us in trial. It is against the law to use _veritasserum_ on purebloods."

"Actually, that's an incorrect statement," Harry shot back. "It is unlawful for the Ministry to force a pureblood to take _veritasserum_ on the stand during a trial before the Wizengamot. It is also unlawful for members of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to administer _veritasserum_ to a pureblood suspect or witness during questioning. It is not unlawful for local law enforcement to use _veritasserum_ on purebloods – or anyone else – to determine facts during questioning, or to use _veritasserum_ on purebloods or memories of questioning purebloods under _veritasserum_ in lower courts. It is also permissible for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to use evidence used in trials of inferior courts during Wizengamot trials. So, while it is illegal for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to question the twelve purebloods taken into custody on Tuesday in Hogsmeade, it is not unlawful for them to use these memories in any trial before the Wizengamot." Both Burke and Malfoy visibly paled. Burke for prominently allying himself with Malfoy, sticking his neck out and failing, and Malfoy for the realization that he wouldn't be getting away with anything this time. It was time for a last ditch effort to suppress a record that, thanks to the airing it had just received, was now uncomfortably public.

"Unconscionable!" Burke nearly choked. Harry couldn't tell, but he looked like he was about to faint. "Such a travesty should not be permitted. Purebloods should be, at every level of government, free from restrictions imposed on lower forms of wizard. I move that laws governing the use of _veritasserum_ by the Ministry be applied to all lower governments as well…"

That was as far as he got before the laughter drowned out his voice and he stopped. The entirety of the light seats were openly guffawing at his proposal, and the majority of the grey seats were at least openly smiling. Even Malfoy didn't have the guts to stand and second Burke's proposal.

Harry noticed the mood in the room. Suddenly, he was seized by an idea. It was crazy, but he just might have the momentum to get it done. Lord Henry's portrait had counselled him on several occasions to guess what the other members of the Wizengamot were thinking, and he'd been doing that over the last several Wizengamot meetings. During drinks with Flea and Lord Abbott afterwards, they discussed it, and both of the older men agreed that Harry's perceptions were usually correct. Harry rose.

"I wish to propose a bill of my own, related to the matter before us," he said calmly. "Far too often, we purebloods" Harry chuckled inside at the fact that he wasn't actually a pureblood… "have been able to craft laws to our advantage, that place us above others. It leads to situations like the one we've seen today, where having gotten a taste of power without responsibility and little accountability, pureblood lords desire more, with even less responsibility, and no accountability." He pulled out a sheet of paper, and quickly jotted down a few ideas while he was speaking. He passed it to Flea, who nodded.

"I propose a change to current law, which would remove the pureblood exemption from interrogation under _veritasserum_," Harry said at last. "In its place, I would submit that any suspect in Ministry custody would be subjected to interrogation under _veritasserum_ in the presence of an Auror, a prosecuting barrister, a barrister for the suspect, and, if thought prudent, a senior member Department of Magical Law Enforcement. During this interrogation, the parties present would determine the guilt or innocence of the suspect on the matter for which he was arrested. If the suspect proves to be innocent of those charges and any crimes related to the charges, the parties present would swear a magical oath not to reveal what was divulged during the interrogation, even if it is the suspect's guilt in an unrelated crime, however heinous. If the suspect proves guilty of the crime for which they were arrested, or a crime related to that crime, then the case will be brought before the Wizengamot for trial and the suspect again subjected to veritasserum interrogation, with the questions restricted to whether the suspect committed the crimes with which they're being charged, and to describe the events surrounding those crimes." He paused, gauging the room again.

"In this way," he concluded, "pureblood lords would be able to keep their secrets, justice would be just, and half-bloods and muggleborns wouldn't resent the purebloods their exemptions from the law quite as much. It would also have the benefit of saving this august body from wasting its time on frivolous trials." That last statement drew a few chuckles from several members. Harry sat.

"We have a motion before us," the Chief Warlock said. "Do I have a…"

"Seconded!" called out Mr. Weasley, to the surprise of Harry and several others. Harry didn't know him at all. He was old – very old. His grandson, Septimus had married Cedrella Black, whose maiden name would be White now thanks to Lord Sirius, before Harry's jaunt into the past.

"Please vote now," the Chief Warlock said, touching his own 'Aye' button. Harry looked around the room, voting on the Wizengamot was open. The desks had a glowing ball that illuminated green for yes, and red for no. All the light seats voted yes. Those fourteen votes alone, plus the Chief Warlock's vote, would've won the issue. Twelve dark seats were vacant, and one grey seat – the Blacks – was absent. The remaining thirteen seats (two dark and eleven grey) wouldn't have mattered one whit. Still, Harry was again surprised when he noticed the Fawley, Greengrass, Hawkworth, Marchbanks, Ollivander, and Shacklebolt seats' voting balls light green as well. Only seven votes were noes. The measure passed easily.

When the new law was finally announced, there was little reaction, even from the gallery. The business of the Wizengamot continued.

The next issue raised, again by Malfoy, was the selection of new members. He, of course, was trying to retain some semblance of a voting block by trying to draw in new pureblood members, or at least dark members. His problem was that there were few pureblood houses untainted by the recent aborted revolution, and the number of half-blood dark houses was negligible.

Lord Longbottom suggested tabling the selection of new members until the next session in March, during which time the members would have time to become familiar with suitable candidates, and consensus might be built as to the best way forward. The majority of members agreed, and the issue was tabled.

The session dragged on for another hour, but nothing of note happened until after the Chief Warlock banged the gavel. As if on cue, two burly aurors stepped up behind Malfoy as he started to rise.

"Lord Abraxas Malfoy, you're under arrest for sedition, conspiracy to commit murder, and conspiracy to commit treason," said one. Malfoy moved, but he didn't have a chance. The covering auror stunned him before he could reach into his pocket. The aurors searched him, recovering his wand, several documents, a money pouch, and a small smooth stone. A quick charm showed it for what it was.

"Portkey," grunted the auror. By now the council chamber was silent, everyone, Wizengamot member, press, and public alike, focused on the unfolding scene in front of them.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Director Edwards said, stepping in front of the aurors and the unconscious Malfoy, "I believe that we'd best leave the aurors to their work."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8—Viva la Revolución!**

"Merlin, Harry!" Flea said as they relaxed at Peverell Court that night. They'd decided to make an evening of it, inviting over all their friends and family. Other guests included Lord and Lady Bones, Mr. and Mrs. Crouch, Mr. Doge, Lord and Lady Macmillan, Mr. and Mrs. Prewitt, and Mr. Weasley. They were all seated around the generously-sized drawing room after supper. "What on Earth convinced you to counter with that?"

"Lord Henry was always telling me to read the room," Harry shrugged, not knowing what else to say. "After everyone laughed at Burke's absurd proposition, I felt like we might be able to swing it the other way. I didn't expect so many grey seats to vote the way they did."

"I daresay the grey families lived in fear of the dark," Lord Bones opined. "Light families generally make their money off the land, or wise investing. Often, other family members work in government or education. We work hard for what we have. Grey families tend to make money off business ventures. They have shops in Hogsmeade or Diagon or Carkitt. They work hard too, but they have to sell to all sorts. The dark families also tend to make their money off business ventures, but they're less scrupulous about how. They'll rob you blind, or pressure you into nearly anything if you let them. It was that fear that caused the grey faction to vote as they had in the past. Now that most of the dark families are dead or in prison, the grey no longer have to fear the dark's retaliation. It won't impact their businesses greatly. Now free, look to see the grey vote much differently than they have in the past."

"I'd not thought about it that way," Harry commented, thinking about what he'd been told.

"I don't see why we can't use this opportunity to create a more egalitarian government," Hermione reasoned. "Right now, we have a unicameral legislature that doubles as a judicial body. We have no head of state, only a head of government…"

"Actually, the King is head of state, even though he's not magical," Lord Abbott explained.

"Hmm," Hermione hummed, thinking quickly. "What if we use that, and the recent…"

"Destruction of the dark faction," Harry supplied.

"That," Hermione agreed. "As an explanation for why and how we should modify our government."

"Modify how?" Lord Macmillan asked. He seemed curious, but noncommittal.

"The muggle government has a bicameral legislature and an independent judiciary," Hermione explained. "Perhaps if we modified the magical government to be more like them, it would be fairer."

"So, the Wizengamot would have a House of Commons and a House of Lords, and the King would appoint justices?" Harry clarified.

"I don't know if that would be acceptable to the majority of witches and wizards. What if, instead, we had a Parliament that was the House of Commons, and the Lords were the justices?" Flea proposed.

"That could work," Hermione agreed slowly. The mood in the room was difficult for Harry to read. It seemed like the core group: Harry, Hermione, and Flea were on board. With Flea's statement, and Hermione's acceptance, the mood seemed to shift towards more agreeability. Lord Longbottom, Neville, Peter, Alphard, Lord Abbott, Sam Abbott, and the others who had worked closely with Harry in the past seemed to understand that this would be something they could work towards together, forging something beneficial to society as a whole, instead of one or two people running roughshod over centuries of tradition.

"I like that it changes some things, but keeps other things the same," Lord Longbottom added. "I agree that a more democratic system is needed to keep pace with the changes of a modern society, and it neatly solves the problem of a muggle – even if he is king – appointing magical justices."

"Are we really talking about completely reworking our government?" Mr. Crouch asked, astonished. "I mean, certainly the dark faction has been a bit more… active recently, but…"

"When else would we have the opportunity?" Mr. Weasley responded, clearly in favour of the idea. "A lot of the people I work with in the Ministry feel like they don't have a voice. It's why so many half-bloods and muggleborns go to work for the Ministry: it's a way they can feel like they matter to society. They may not get to write laws, but they can see that they're enforced fairly. It sounds like Lady Gryffindor's idea may change that. Besides, can you see most half-bloods or any muggleborns voting for a dark representative? Our party, or at least a party generally acceptable to us would control the government for the foreseeable future." Harry noticed a lot of people nodding at that. That it had come from Mr. Weasley, not one of Harry's closest friends, meant a lot to everyone in the room.

"It's not completely reworking the government," Lord Abbott cut in. "The Wizengamot Lords would continue sitting as a judicial body as they always have. Commoners, such as yourself and Artemus," here he gestured to Mr. Weasley, "would be able to run for seats in the parliament, which, as I understand it, we would be excluded from." He looked to Lord Longbottom for confirmation. Longbottom nodded.

"We wouldn't even have to worry about restocking the dead lords, because anyone who was ennobled would automatically be empanelled to sit on the Wizengamot, but it wouldn't necessarily need to be a fixed number of lords, just… the lords," Flea expanded the idea. "I like it."

"How would you vote for members of parliament?" Harry asked.

"In muggle Britain, MPs represent regional constituencies," Hermione explained. "Each seat holds an independent race, where the winner becomes the seat-holder. Any British subject twenty-one and over, man and woman, can vote in their local elections, with each subject voting in the election for the seat representing where they reside."

"I don't know if that would work in Magical Britain," Sam Abbott observed. "We're thinly spread across most of the country, but heavily concentrated in a few areas: London, Hogsmeade, Godric's Hollow, Devon, and Wiltshire. We wouldn't want anyone to feel… unrepresented."

"Perhaps we modify it then," Flea suggested. "Any thoughts?"

"We could use a system of nationwide proportional representation," Hermione suggested.

"What's that?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"Instead of voting for a local representative, people vote for a party that represents their general opinions instead," Hermione explained. "Those parties each recruit a slate of candidates. When people go to vote, they vote for a party, not a specific candidate. The proportion of votes cast for that party give that party that proportion of seats in parliament, which the party then fill from the ranked list, with the top of the list filling the first available slot, and so on. If there are a hundred seats in parliament, and the light party gets thirty-three percent of the vote, then they get the right to seat thirty-three members in parliament," she concluded.

"How do the parties select their candidates?" Mr. Crouch asked, sceptically.

"It depends," she shrugged. "The law could stipulate a method, or they could leave it up to the party to decide how its ranked list is created. Some countries have primary or preliminary public elections to decide that. Others use caucuses, party-wide meetings, or the party leadership decides who makes the cut."

"I wouldn't want the dark party voting for light party candidates," Lord Abbott pointed out. "How about we stipulate party-wide meetings?"

"I like that," Lord Longbottom agreed. "We're not so large a country that we can't find a place to fit a few hundred people." Others nodded.

"Who gets to vote?" Hermione asked when the discussion lapsed. "I'd recommend parroting the muggle British: men and women twenty-one and over, but since this is a magical government, I'd recommend enfranchising magicals – regardless of blood status, squibs, muggle parents of magical children, and sentient magical beings: house elves, centaurs, goblins..." She let the thought trail off.

"Goblins have their own nation," Sam Abbott pointed out.

"Centaurs don't want to have anything to do with us," Mr. Doge protested, entering the conversation after being an observer.

"Is that really the case?" Hermione asked. "Or have we not given them anything worth partnering with us for in the past?" She saw some nods.

"Before this devolves into a rift," Flea interjected, "let's sit down with each group and ask if they want to be involved in our government. It doesn't have to be anything concrete, but if the merpeople don't want anything to do with us, why force them? We can always treat them like a foreign nation."

"Or we can treat them like indigenous peoples, such as in Canada or America," Hermione said. "That would be with a separate cabinet-level position, but one with dignity, not Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

"I've some time," Lord Abbott said. "Sam, can you come 'round with me tomorrow? We can talk to the goblins." Sam nodded. "Does anyone know if… wait. Nipsy!" A house elf clad in a homemade white toga belted with a piece of blue yarn popped in front of Lord Abbot.

"Yes, milord?" Nipsy asked.

"Is there someone who can represent the house elves?" he asked.

"Nipsy doesn't understand the question, milord," she replied, confused.

"Wizards and witches have the Wizengamot and the Ministry who are our leaders," Lord Abbott explained. "The merpeople have a chieftain… The goblins have a king…" He trailed off. "Is there some sort of house elf leadership?"

"Other than head elves, no," Nipsy allowed. Harry knew that head elves were whichever elf each family put in charge of the other elves of their family.

"Would you be able to poll other house elves with a question, and get back to me?" he asked.

"Yes, milord."

"We're thinking about reforming the government to be more fair and inclusive," Lord Abbott explained. "We were wondering if you and the other house elves would like to be able to vote…"

"And stand for office," Hermione interjected.

"Yes, and that," Lord Abbott agreed, "in the government of wizards and witches here in Britain. We'll be posing the same question to other sentient magical beings, such as merpeople, centaurs, and goblins."

"Nipsy will need some time to ask as many house elves as she can," the elf replied judiciously.

"It will take us a few days to put the plan together, so that won't be a problem," Lord Abbott said. "Make this your top priority."

"Yes, milord," the little elf said, and popped away.

"Harry, can you question the centaur herd?" Lord Abbott asked, looking up from where Nipsy had been. "They're on your land, after all."

"Sure," Harry allowed. "I'll see if I can't do the same for the merpeople in the Black lake as well. Can someone question the hags and vampires?"

"I'm going to draw the line there," Lord Longbottom said. "Those two groups would be unacceptable to most Britons, even the centaurs and merpeople don't want to be classed with them."

"I thought we were trying to be as inclusive as possible," Harry said stiffly.

"Yes, but centaurs, merpeople, goblins, and house elves don't eat people," Lord Abbott said. "I agree we draw the line at the groups we've already discussed."

"What about werewolves?" Harry asked. "Some of them are wizards and witches. Do we only allow those with magic the vote, or can any werewolf vote since they're technically magical beings, and they don't eat people."

"Sometimes they do," Mr. Doge said.

"In my experience most werewolves do everything in their power to segregate themselves from people during the full moon, for everyone's safety," Harry replied firmly, drawing a raised eyebrow from Flea. "You can't blame everyone for the bad actions of a few, or else you'd have to condemn all wizards and witches for the actions of Malfoy and his ilk. I say let the law handle the lawbreakers, and allow the werewolves the vote en masse."

"But they're dark!" cried Mr. Crouch.

"Are they?" Hermione asked. "Given the choice, you can't be certain how they'd vote, because you neither know any nor have they been allowed to vote in the past. Harry's right, some are dark, but most are stuck classified as dark creatures through no fault of their own. If they had a say in government, they might be more open to obeying that government when it passed laws about what they can do and where they can be for everyone's safety."

"I agree," Lord Abbott said. "And we can class hags and vampires as magical beings, and treat them as Hermione suggested, with an office such as the Canadians and Americans use for their indigenous peoples."

"Sensible," Lord Longbottom accepted. He turned to the only woman in the room. "Hermione, you seem to know quite a bit about muggle government and elections – something we wizards are a little behind on. Perhaps you and your husband would like to come over to mine for tea tomorrow and we can hash out the details of our parliamentary legislation proposal. Then we can pass it around to all here for comment, revise it, and approach the greys with a finished product to gauge reaction."

"Thank you," Hermione replied. "We'll be there."

ooOOOOoo

On Monday, February 20, Harry and Hermione stepped out of their Hogsmeade house into a light snowfall. Neville was with them as they made their way through the streets and towards the castle. All evidence that a battle had taken place in the High Street less than a week prior was gone. The shops and homes flanking the main street of Hogsmeade looked as they always had.

Residents had become used to seeing Harry and Hermione, and greeted them cheerily as they passed. Harry's popularity, already significant, had increased greatly after the battle. He'd fought for them, something no one else had done in living memory. Additionally, he was doing a fine job as a ruler – chief executive really, taking an active interest in the happenings of the shire, and a generally pleasant individual so long as one didn't break the law, or at least have a good reason for doing so.

Passing onto the grounds of Hogwarts, Harry looked towards the Forbidden Forest and the Black Lake, where he would have to search out the centaurs and merpeople later.

"Do you think they'll go for it?" Harry asked, nodding toward the forest and lake.

"I don't know," Hermione said after thinking. "It's been so long, I wouldn't be surprised if they wanted nothing to do with us. We should still try."

"I know," Harry agreed. They completed the walk in contemplative silence, shrouded in softly falling snow, their breaths clouding in front of them.

At the entrance, they were met by a perturbed looking headmaster, wringing his hands.

"I'm glad you're here, Lord Gryffindor," Binns said earnestly. "We have a bit of a problem."

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, worried. Hermione gripped his hand reassuringly.

"Well, erm… we have had a… surge in…" he sighed, not sure how to continue. Finally, Binns just blurted out, "Nearly all of the Slytherins are now orphans, and I don't know what to do!"

"Shit," Harry sighed. "Let me think about it, and I'll get back to you at noon with a response." Binns sagged a bit, some of the tension leaving him. He nodded and turned to leave, muttering to himself. Harry thought he heard, "Glad I'm retiring." and, "These children will be the death of me." This caused Harry to smile.

"I'll see you at lunch," Harry said, giving Hermione a kiss before leaving for his classes.

ooOOOOoo

At noon, he found Binns in the hall on his way to lunch. Binns looked relieved when Harry confidently approached him, having ruminated on the question all morning.

"Can you get me a list of the orphans?" Harry asked. "I want to know their status, whether they have living relatives, and who they are, what sort of inheritance they can expect, and anything else you think is pertinent."

"I… I can try," Binns agreed. "It might take some time."

"I want the information by Friday," Harry instructed. "As much as you can gather. I'll review it Friday night and be back on Saturday. I'll spend the day interviewing the students. Between now and then, I'll start making arrangements."

Binns nodded and hurried off to lunch, while Harry turned back to his office to grab a sandwich and get to work.

ooOOOOoo

It turned out to be not nearly as bad as Binns had said. Harry was reading through the list he'd been given one final time on Saturday morning as he waited. There were 65 names, far shy of the full tally of 140 residents of the Slytherin dungeons, but they were the cream of the dark families. He'd been given the list on Friday morning, and had begged off classes for the rest of the day to try to perform miracles. Earlier in the week he'd visited the Ministry and reviewed laws on guardians, inheritance, and the rest. By the time the list had arrived, he had a plan. By eleven at night on Friday, he'd done it. He had his miracle.

This would be extremely difficult. Still, given the chance, he might be able to pull off a change of heart for some of these people. He wasn't so foolish as to believe that they could all be saved from their parents' beliefs, however, he was sure that many of them would have become Death Eaters, and some of them would've died for their beliefs. He hoped to prevent that in as many as he could.

Forty-one of the orphans would not be his problem: eight of them were seventh years, who would be graduating and coming into their inheritances. Of those eight, six would be in a position to take in younger siblings who were in lower grades: ten of them. Elizabeth Malfoy, a sixth year and a second cousin of Abraxas Malfoy, had also already turned seventeen, and would be able to take care of her brother Louis, a third year, during the summer. Twenty-five more would be taken in by grey or light relatives, or in the case of Irma and James Burke, their uncle who sat on the Wizengamot. That left 20 school-aged children who were his responsibility. He'd heard from Flea that there were another 20 or so below school age, who were not able to be taken in by family, but those would be handled by the Ministry until they were old enough for school. Hopefully, by then, their placement would be permanent.

The previous day, Harry had held a quick staff meeting to sound out the professors on his ideas. They'd gotten a warm reception. He watched as the students filed into the empty classroom he'd selected for the meeting. He'd seen the first years in class that week, and some of the others in the halls. Older students – sixth and seventh years mostly – had been frowning or glaring at him, but he didn't receive that hostility from the younger years.

Once they'd all gotten settled, Professor Slughorn introduced Harry. It was primarily a way to get the meeting started, since everyone knew who he was, even if he hadn't been introduced to them before. The first years had been in his classes and the rest of them had been in school with him.

"Good morning," Harry began. "Thank you for coming. I realize that the past few weeks have been challenging for you. Nearly everything you know outside of school has changed. Let me be blunt: your parents died for misguided beliefs. They were misled by a criminal, and encouraged to engage in criminal acts by him. Regardless of what you may have read in the _Prophet_, my actions, and those of my constables was one of law enforcement. I'd be happy to share pensieve memories with anyone over seventeen, so that you can see the truth.

"I will not, however, attach the sins of the parents on their children," Harry stated firmly. "Theirs was not your mistake. Their deaths were not your fault. You are innocent, and for that, my heart goes out to you all.

"For those of you graduating this spring, you step out into the world alone, or with brothers and sisters who rely on you for support. To you," Harry said earnestly, looking each of the older students in the eye, "I say: I will always be here for you if you need me. Feel free to owl me, or visit me with problems. If you need a reference, or assistance in finding employment, or if you'd like to continue your education with a mastery: I'm here to help you realize your ambitions.

"For you younger years," Harry continued. "Many of you will be going to the care of relatives, whether they're your brothers or sisters, or an aunt, uncle, or distant cousin. To you lot, I say: if you're ever mistreated and need a safe place… come here, even in summer. Hogwarts protects its own.

"If you ever need to talk," Harry pressed. "If you ever need help… any of you… if you ever need support: I am here… Hogwarts is here… for you." Harry wound down, his spiel complete. He let the emotion drain from his voice. Looking around, he could see he'd gotten through to them.

"Gringotts representatives will be available here at Hogwarts next week," Harry explained. "They will be able to provide you with copies of your families wills, and discuss with you your inheritances. Of age students and their siblings will be allowed to return to their homes over spring vacation to see to their affairs. Students who have family guardians will be allowed to visit their guardians over spring vacation, at that time, your guardians should assist you in settling your affairs. If they don't, let myself or Professor Slughorn know when you return, and we'll work something out. For those of you going into the care of family, I'll be writing each of your guardians, and sharing what I've shared with you today." Harry sighed, relieved. "When you're dismissed, I'd like the Flints, Goyles, McNairs, Mr. Mulciber, the Rosiers, Rowles, Mr. Snyde, the Travers, Miss Umbridge, the Wilkes', and Mr. Yaxley to remain behind. Before I dismiss you… are there any questions?"

"When can we see this memory?" James Gibbon, a seventh year, asked sharply.

"I'll be available in my office this afternoon," Harry replied neutrally. "You may visit at any time. I have a pensieve there. Again, that goes for any of-age students."

"Will we be able to live at home?" Samuel Carrow, a fifth year, asked.

"You'll be living with your guardian until you turn seventeen," Harry replied. "Whether your guardian decides to live in your home or not is up to them. Once you turn seventeen, you're an adult, and will be able to live in your home."

"What if our families sell our homes before then?" Richard Avery asked earnestly.

"Your families have a guardian role over you only," Harry replied, glad he'd researched this. "They cannot sell your property without your permission, and they can't take more money out of your vaults then is required for your maintenance. The goblins will explain all this when you visit with them next week, and they will ensure that should you want to sell your property, it's actually you who want to sell, and not a potion or coercion. Were you to be adopted by them, that would be different, but it would also require my approval, which is something I won't give without your say so, and I'll take steps to ensure you're not being pressured into something you don't want, or tricked. Despite what happened to your parents, I want you to grow up safe, secure, well cared for, and hopefully, happy." Harry looked around, everyone else seemed satisfied. "If you come up with any other questions, you can bring them to me at any time. Now, except for those I asked to remain behind, you're dismissed."

There was the usual scraping of chairs on the floor as the majority of the students departed. It took several minutes before there were only twenty students left. Even Slughorn had abandoned them. Harry glanced at the door and shook his head.

"Because you've no relatives to claim you, I've had to arrange other accommodations for you," Harry told them. They were scattered about the room, not having moved from where they'd been sat in the press of students. They looked… lonely. Harry pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket, and looked at it before glancing about the room again.

"None of you will be remaining at Hogwarts once term is done," Harry reassured them. "I've found homes for you all, of a sort. Misters Flint," Harry nodded to Quentin, a fourth year, and Marcus, a firstie, "You'll become guardians of Lord John Abbott. He and Lady Abbott will be here tomorrow at one o'clock to meet you. Please present yourselves in the entry hall at that time. Lord and Lady Abbott have grown children, and grandchildren. I'm sure they'll make you feel at home." He glanced at the list again.

"Mr. and Miss Goyle," Harry glanced up at Geoffrey, a fifth year, and Georgina, a second year, "You'll become guardians of Mr. Charlus Potter, my uncle. He and his wife, will be by to see you today at three o'clock in the entry hall. Mr. and Mrs. Potter have a son, Simon, who's starting Hogwarts next year.

"Mr. and Miss McNair," Harry continued, searching out June, a third year, and the hopefully not future Death Eater Walden, a firstie. "You'll become the wards of Mr. Roger Longbottom. Miss McNair, you may remember Neville Longbottom, who graduated last year. Mr. Longbottom is his father. Please be available tomorrow after supper in the Great Hall to meet them." Harry glanced down to check his place in the parchment.

"Mr. Mulciber," Harry said, his eyes finding the fourth year Ian, a cousin of the late noted arsehole Leslie Mulciber. "You will become the ward of Professor Silver. Professor Silver is willing to meet with you about this at any point this weekend. Please find time to do so.

Mr. and Miss Rosier," Harry continued, singling out fourth year Randall, and second year Druella, who in Harry's future past was the wife of Alphard's brother Cygnus. "You will become the wards of Mr. Arcturus White, formerly Mr. Arcturus Black, and his wife. They have three grown children and several grandchildren. They will present themselves in the entry hall after supper tomorrow. Please be there to meet them.

"Mr. Snyde," Harry called out, searching for the second year Steven. "Your guardian will be Professor Potts. Please search him out this weekend to discuss this matter.

"Mr. and Misses Travers… Your guardians will be the Lord and Lady Potter, my parents." Harry looked out at the fifth year Michelle, fourth year Sally, and third year Martin. You will find them in my office immediately after this meeting.

"Miss Umbridge," Harry said, finding the pudgy firstie with the horridly clashing pink cardigan and black and green robes. "Professor Robards will be your guardian. Please seek her out this weekend so she can explain things.

"Mr. and Misses Wilkes," Harry continued, looking up at fifth year Bertha, third year Mary, and first year Kevin. "You will become the wards of the Lord and Lady Longbottom, my friend Neville's grandparents. They'll be here tomorrow at noon, please greet them in the Great Hall for lunch.

"Mr. Yaxley," Harry concluded, nodding to the third year William. "Your guardian is Professor Yates. Find her in her office after this meeting to chat." He sighed and put the note down. He looked about the room, and saw wide eyes looking back at him. He had a good idea what they were thinking.

"Look," he said at last. "I know none of this is ideal. The alternative was to put you into a muggle orphanage, and that I cannot abide. I know of a wizard who was put into an orphanage a long time ago. It didn't turn out well for him, or anyone else. These people – your new guardians – will treat you well. They'll respect you, include you, and provide for you. They ask little in return except that you respect them in return and appreciate what they're giving you. I'll say to you what I said to the others: if any of you are abused, ignored, hurt, or afraid, seek me out, and I'll help you. Now, if there's nothing else, some of you have guardians to meet." It was a clear dismissal. They got up to leave.

Harry was practically wrung out, but the students leaving seemed… reassured that they'd not been forgotten. Some seemed pleased that they'd be living with lords of proper pureblood houses. That would soon be stamped out of them. Professor Robards, especially, had been advised of Dolores' notions, and Harry had asked that she be gently guided away from them.

A blonde fourth year, Elizabeth Rowle, sat before him, unmoved, hand raised as the room emptied. Her brother, Richard, a first year stood beside her, looking unsure.

"Yes?" Harry asked. Then, before she spoke, Harry realized what her question would be. "Oh, my apologies, Miss Rowle. You and your brother are to become my wards."

"Y… your ward?" she stammered, suddenly looking as unsure as her brother.

"Yes," Harry said, smiling at her. Harry had looked at her file the night prior. She'd just turned fifteen. Her brother wouldn't turn twelve until June. "Do you have much revision this weekend?"

"I have a six inch parchment in potions, a four inch parchment in defence, and I need to practice some charms," she replied. Harry looked at her brother.

"Not really," he said. "I already did yours. I only have to write out a bit for transfiguration."

"That doesn't sound like it should take very long," Harry reassured them. "How would you like to have supper at my house tonight? You could get to know my wife, Hermione, and we could pick out your bedrooms and get them suited to you. Does that sound alright?" The two Rowle children were stunned, and merely nodded dumbly. "Excellent," Harry exclaimed. "I'll collect you at four. Please be in the entry hall then. You might want to bring a change of clothes. I doubt we'll be back before tomorrow around lunchtime."

ooOOOOoo

At four, Harry and Hermione were waiting in the entry hall as Elizabeth and Richard arrived from the dungeons. They each carried a small book bag.

"Alright?" Harry asked. The two Rowles looked unsure, but nodded. "You both know Hermione?" They nodded again.

"Hello, Lady Gryffindor," Elizabeth said meekly.

"Best call me Hermione," she replied with a smile. "You're only a few years younger than us, after all."

"But you're my teacher!" Richard squeaked.

"When we're in class you can call me Mrs. Potter, but the rest of the time, just call me Hermione, okay?"

"Okay," Richard agreed.

"Alright, you lot, let's go," Harry said, practically pulling everyone out the door. "We've got a lot to do tonight!" Hermione grinned and rolled her eyes, but followed, pulling Richard along with her. Elizabeth followed behind, clutching at the bag strap on her shoulder.

"So," Hermione said as they were walking. "What do like to eat?"

"Roast beef," Richard supplied. "With jacket potatoes and Yorkshire pudding."

"What about for breakfast?"

"Bacon and sausage," Richard replied more enthusiastically. "And eggs over easy."

"What's your tea?" Hermione asked, smiling.

"Oolong," Richard said quickly.

"Oolong?" Hermione asked, glancing at Elizabeth.

"He just likes to say the word," Elizabeth answered, rolling her eyes at her brother. "We drink either Earl Grey or English Breakfast at home. Mum would say it was oolong to get him to drink it." The words rolled easily off her tongue, then she stopped dead, realizing what she'd said, and remembering that she'd never see her mum again.

Seeing her stop, Harry stopped as well, and turned. He could see the tears forming in her eyes. He went over and gave the girl a hug.

"I'm so sorry," he said into her hair. "When you're ready, I want to hear all about your parents. I want to get to know them as you did, and not as the people I met them as. I want to see the good they did, and I know they did a lot, because they raised you." He pulled back, hands on her shoulders, and looked her in the eyes.

"But you don't even know me," Elizabeth protested, wiping at her eyes.

"I know enough," Harry said. "You're polite. You're a good student. You look out for your brother. Your parents weren't bad people, they just got mixed up in some bad things." That they'd paid for that mistake with their lives went unsaid.

Harry had some remaining guilt over the whole episode, too. He remembered watching as some of the marchers tried to apparate away, until they realized they couldn't. He hadn't ever figured out whether they'd tried to flee because they weren't committed or because they realized the tactical hopelessness of the situation. That they'd fought, rather than surrender, led Harry (and Lord Henry's portrait, with whom Harry had discussed his misgivings) to believe that they'd merely been trying to escape a trap, and were just as committed, though probably smarter, than the people who hadn't immediately tried to leave.

"You're odd," Elizabeth said finally, having wiped at her eyes.

"I probably am, at that," Harry laughed as they resumed walking. "But why do you think so?"

"You're caring for people you hardly know, from a house opposed to yours," she shrugged. "That's odd. Plus, you're not exactly your average pureblood, you know."

"I'm aware," Harry snorted. "But why do you mean?"

"You hugged me," she said as if that said it all.

"So?" Harry asked, confused. "Families hug."

"I've never gotten a hug from my dad," Elizabeth replied.

"Never?" Harry asked. "My dad hugs me all the time."

"Mine didn't," Elizabeth informed him. "He rarely talked to me. He took a bit more interest in Richard, but he's not old enough to really start training yet."

"Training… as in, to learn the family magic and business?" Harry inquired.

"Uh huh," Elizabeth agreed. "Dad was very traditional."

"We're less so," Harry allowed. "Hermione will tell you. I'm even less traditional than my dad, and he's pretty easy-going. I'm not going to try to lock you into any arranged marriages or try to talk you out of doing a mastery or anything, if that's what you're worried about. I'm not even going to kick you out when you turn seventeen."

"You won't?" she asked, amazed.

"Nope," Harry said simply. "Everyone needs some kind of support structure when they're starting out. You can live at Edgewood until you get married or get a job or just decide you want to after you turn seventeen, but it's your decision. Now, if you're twenty and still living with us, we'll revisit the conversation to see what your life goals are, but for now, you don't have to go anywhere."

"Why are you being so nice to us?" Elizabeth wanted to know.

"Because I… Look, I've had some experiences, not with my family, but with another family," Harry explained, evasively. "I lived with them for a while, and they weren't very nice to me at all. They made me do chores all the time, and I got the smallest bedroom with a broken bed. I didn't get to eat unless I cooked for them." It was only a slight exaggeration. "They called me a freak, and told everyone I was a criminal. When I lived with them, I had no friends, and was yelled at and hit and locked in my room."

"That sounds awful," Elizabeth said. "Why did you live with them? Why weren't you with your family?"

"Harry and I are children of prophecy," Hermione interjected. "It had to do with the prophecy, and he can't explain the why."

"Oh," Elizabeth said sadly.

"The point is," Harry continued, "that I understand what it's like to grow up without a nice place to live. I understand how important a family is. Your family got taken away, so I want to give you as good a substitute as I can, so that you can have as normal and happy a life as possible."

"Okay," Elizabeth said. "I like pasta and strawberries."

"What? Oh, right," Harry said, remembering earlier. Ahead, Hermione was opening the door to their Hogsmeade house.

"You live in Hogsmeade?" Richard asked, amazed.

"No," Harry said from behind him. "We just use this house as a floo stop. Hermione and I like the walk to and from school, and we get to see all the people who live here in Hogsmeade every day. Harry closed the door behind them and they approached the floo.

Hermione grabbed a fistful of floo powder from the jar on the mantle.

"To get to our house, say 'Edgewood'," she instructed. Then she threw the powder into the grate, proclaimed, "Edgewood!" and stepped through.

ooOOOOoo

Edgewood wasn't impressive to the Rowles. Their grandparents' home had been similar. Their home had been more like one on Privet Drive, though in a more secluded area. Eventually, Richard would inherit both homes, while Elizabeth was – or rather, had been – expected to marry well, and become the lady of a proper pureblood family, preferably ancient or noble or both.

Finding the children rooms had been the work of moments, and familiarizing them with the rest of the house had hardly taken longer. Harry and Hermione both had impressed upon the Rowles that they were welcome to consider their rooms properly theirs, and were allowed – nay, expected – to decorate them. For that purpose, Harry would be taking them to their parents' home to collect their things there on Sunday morning, and to shut the place up for the long term. Harry and Richard would repeat that feat at Richard's grandparents' house over Spring Vacation.

That night before bed, Harry and Hermione peeked into the Rowles' rooms. Richard was tucked away and quickly dreaming of… Harry had no idea what Richard was dreaming of. Elizabeth sat on her bed in her dressing gown looking pensive.

"Is everything alright?" Harry asked, pushing the door all the way open.

"I don't know where I fit anymore," she said, frowning. "I'm fifteen, and suddenly the whole world's shifted. Richard's fine, his life hadn't really started yet. But I'm…"

"You've already begun plotting your life out, and now you don't know where all that work is right now," Hermione said, stepping into the room. "I understand."

"You do?" Elizabeth asked, looking up as Hermione sat next to her on the bed.

"Yep," Hermione allowed. "I had big plans back in Canada," Hermione explained. Though unable to explain how she'd wanted to go to university and study law, she was able to convey the concepts using their previously concocted story. "When I learned I was part of a prophecy, and had to move to Britain, my life was tossed upside down. I left friends and family to come here, but I've crafted a new, much better life for myself."

"I know it's tough now," Harry added, sitting on Elizabeth's other side. "But if you open yourself up to new experiences and opportunities, you can find an even better life on the other side. You're a Slytherin, which means you're cunning and ambitious. Before now, you were pretty limited in where your ambitions could lead you. You were expected to marry and be a wife. Now, the sky's the limit! So rethink what you – Elizabeth – wants out of life, and set your cunning and ambition on that new target."

"But you're a wife," Elizabeth said, turning to Hermione.

"Yes, but I'm not a housewife, or just a lady of a house," Hermione explained. "I'm getting my mastery in Charms, and when I'm done, I'm going to work. I already sit on the Wizengamot. Harry doesn't need my help running Hogsmeade or Hogwarts, so I'll go out and find my own job. We have Mipsy to take care of the home." Both children had been introduced to Mipsy and firmly instructed to treat her with respect and kindness, as they would a member of their own family, as that's what Mipsy was considered. "You can do whatever you want, anywhere you want. You can marry whomever you want, even if that means a muggleborn or even a muggle."

"Why would I want to marry a muggle?" Elizabeth scoffed.

"You can't help who you love," Hermione shrugged. "You might find that you fall for a muggle man, or woman. We don't judge."

"Where would I even meet a muggle?" Elizabeth asked, ignoring the implicit acceptance of lesbianism from her new guardians.

"We have a vacation home in the south of France," Harry said. "It's in a muggle area, and we'll have muggle neighbours. We'll be spending the summer there." He paused and smiled. "That reminds me… do you and Richard have swimwear? The house is on the beach, and you'll want to go swimming."

"Wicked!" Elizabeth crowed. "I've never had a swimsuit before. Dad wouldn't let me."

"Well, the oppression of the patriarchy is banned in this house," Hermione assured her, wrapping an arm around her and squeezing. "Here we marry who we want, do what we want for a job, and we go swimming."

"I think I'm going to like it here," Elizabeth smiled brightly at Hermione.

"I hope so," Hermione said, smiling back.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9—All the Other Stuff**

Life settled down to a rough approximation of normal through the end of February. Harry eventually had a conversation with the centaur herd. Predictably, they'd foreseen his coming in the stars. When they'd heard what accommodations would be proposed for the vampires and hags, they agreed to a status as citizens. It wasn't difficult, as it really required no change on their parts. They would continue living in the forest, but would be able to vote. They, of course, could stand for election, but Harry got the feeling that they probably wouldn't, at least not anytime soon. Harry had been startled when the conversation drifted off to what the centaurs had seen in the stars… a coming conflict, when suddenly that had changed a few years ago. Harry deferred to their wisdom, but professed not to know what they were talking about.

The conversation Harry had with the merpeople was put off for some time, at least until he could find someone who spoke Mermish, which was no mean feat. By the end of February, he'd found someone, one of the Prewitt clan, who would agree to go with him to talk to the merchieftain. Using bubblehead charms, they descended into the Black Lake, and through the use of an inverted aquarium were able to have a three-way conversation with the chieftain.

Like the centaurs, they welcomed the change, though it wouldn't affect them much. They also agreed to become citizens of magical Britain, and it was worked out, would be provided waterproof ballots for voting. While there was nothing legally preventing a merperson from being elected to parliament, there was the practical consideration of getting a merperson from the Black Lake (or any other watercourse) to the Ministry. This hiccup would de facto prevent merpeople from taking a more active role in government from some years to come. Still, having a voice in the larger government, with the promises that their current situation would be left quietly alone, gave them some measure of confidence that the wizards and witches who lived above them – physically – were not trying to screw them over again.

Harry, Flea, and Hermione had worked out a solution to keep the centaur and merpeople societies largely intact despite their new status as British subjects. Because both populations were present within Harry's demesne, Harry, in his role as Earl of Monar, could petition to have the leader of the centaur herd and the merchieftain elevated to the nobility, making them Harry's vassals, but also direct executive leaders in an otherwise democratic society. This would allow their pre-democratic traditions of government to continue. Harry also agreed with Hermione that writing out a sort of Magna Carta for the situation, stipulating the rights and responsibilities of all parties was in everyone's best interest. Hermione, who had by far the best handle on the situation, was dragooned into writing up the charter, a task she was happy to perform.

On March 3, 1950, Harry went to Professor Silver's office following his last class. Silver had left him a rather confusing message requesting his presence. He knocked on Silver's door, and pushed it open.

"You wanted to see me?" Harry asked. He'd dropped the 'professor' bit long ago at Silver's urging. He insisted he was merely Thomas to Harry.

"Yes!" Silver replied, waving Harry in. "Come! Sit. Sit." Harry closed the door and walked over to where Silver was sitting in a comfortable chair next to a small couch in a parlour area next to the fireplace. He sat.

"I imagine you're wondering what this could be about," Silver continued. It wasn't a question. Silver got up, and went over to his desk, where he dug through a short stack of papers until he found what he was looking for. "I'd determined it was time for this a while ago," he said, bringing a piece of parchment over to where Harry was. "I just had to get approval for it." He handed the parchment to Harry, who looked at it. It was a certificate of mastery in defence with Harry's name on it.

"Are you sure?" Harry asked, looking up at Silver as he sat back in his chair. "It's not yet the end of the school year."

"You proved with Dumbledore last year that you can teach," Silver waved him off. "You've done a bang-up job this year as well. I've seen your pensieve memories of your various fights, including the most recent dust up in Hogsmeade. You've also proven yourself able to defend yourself politically, which, while not strictly within the purview of a defence mastery, is still an important consideration for you. I've also watched you craft new spells and modify spells to do different things. I've taken you on in a fight, and know you can handle yourself. Really, this mastery was yours before you even started last summer. The work you've done since then was mostly for the paperwork."

"Would you like me to continue to teach until the end of the year?" Harry asked, tucking the parchment away in his bag.

"Harry," Silver began, leaning forward. "Teaching these students is important. It's why they hired me. But you have a different calling. You continuing to teach defence to firsties would be a gross misuse of your time. You have duties and responsibilities beyond the walls of Hogwarts…"

"I have duties and responsibilities within the walls as well," Harry pointed out.

"You do, boss," Silver agreed slyly. "And that's all the more reason to free up your time. Between the Wizengamot, Hogsmeade, Hogwarts, those two new wards you have, and everything else you're doing, you could use the time. I've decided you've done enough – more than enough – to earn that parchment. Now go and do your real jobs."

"You know, when I was a student I wanted to be an auror," Harry revealed. "Then, I decided if it ever came open, I'd want to teach."

"It is a rewarding path, Harry," Silver agreed, "but it's not your path. You're destined for far greater things."

"I think you're devaluing your profession," Harry argued.

"I'm not," Silver countered kindly. "I can teach the curriculum. I'm good at it; very good. You, on the other hand, have the ability to _set_ the curriculum. You can appoint heads who make the school whatever you want it to be. You have near total control over Britain's magical youth between the ages of eleven and seventeen. You are in a position to shape their outlook on life, their knowledge, their habits. I can teach how to fight the darkness. You, through your policies, can instil in students the desire to fight the darkness, and the expectation that they should, in fact, do so. I am a good teacher, and I enjoy it. You have the potential to be a great governor."

"I'll take your advice to heart," Harry said. "It would be nice to have a little more time to devote to politics."

"That's the spirit!" Silver smiled.

"Not that I'll need that much in a few months," Harry added.

"What now?" Silver asked, confused.

"You'll see this weekend," Harry replied, smiling knowingly.

"You're about to upset the apple cart again, aren't you?" Silver asked, shaking his head, already knowing the answer. Harry's smile broke into a wide grin.

"Thanks for this," Harry concluded, rising and holding up the mastery.

ooOOOOoo

"I call this session of the Wizengamot to order," the Chief Warlock intoned on Saturday, March 4, 1950. "The first order of business, the chair recognizes Lord Gryffindor, with a proposed bill."

"Thank you, Chief Warlock," Harry said, standing. "Members of the Wizengamot, over the last few months, our society has changed drastically. We have seen what can happen when power goes unchecked… what happens when people succumb to the darkness. Several of us, working together, have created, what I believe is an excellent preventative measure to this occurring again.

"It is my honour and privilege to present to you Bill 1950-17, A Reformation of the Government of Magical Britain," Harry paused as copies of the bill appeared before every member. "I will allow you time to read it all, but the gist of the bill is simple: The legislative duties of the Wizengamot would be transferred to a new, elected body, termed Parliament, like our muggle cousins use. The Wizengamot would continue as the judicial body, hearing cases and dispensing justice. The Minister for Magic would become a position appointed by the Parliament, as is done in muggle Britain. Nobles would gain a seat in the Wizengamot. Commoners would be able to run for seats in Parliament. The Parliament would pass laws, set taxes, and oversee the Ministry.

"This new system would reduce the power of any one body, and set clear limits on the power of any one person," Harry explained. "People like Abraxas Malfoy would face a tough choice: continue as a nobleman, and be excluded from the political process, or abdicate his nobility and be able to run for a seat in Parliament. That, though would be dependent on voters and a political party deciding he was the right choice to legislate on their behalf." Harry sat, and waited while the members read through the proposal. Hermione leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. No one noticed, they were so engrossed in the new bill.

"Very concise," she whispered to him. He shrugged.

"I didn't need to say more," he replied, grasping her hand under the desk. "It's all in the bill, explained so a first year could understand it. That was all you." He kissed her back and she beamed at him. "We make a pretty good team, you know?"

"I do," she replied. "It was also pretty crafty of you to put in the exemption for nobles who can't sit on the Wizengamot to be able to run for Parliament." She was referring to the bit in the bill that restricted Wizengamot to the head of each noble family or a designated representative, should that head hold the headship of multiple families. Other family members were eligible to stand for Parliamentary seats until such time as they might become the head or be designated as a representative for the Wizengamot. This meant, that should the bill become law, Hermione could stand for election.

It took a full twenty minutes for most of the Wizengamot to finish reading the bill. Many of Harry's friends and family on the Wizengamot had had a hand in the bill. Some had even written parts of it. They still flipped through the final product to see if anything had changed. It hadn't. When most of the Wizengamot looked like they'd finished, and begun quiet side conversations, Harry stood again.

"I'm willing to take questions regarding the bill," he announced.

"What's this bit about money in elections?" one of the grey seats asked.

"I propose that the spending of any political party in any one election be limited to the same amount as the annual salary of the Minister for Magic, and restrict individuals from spending any money to support or attack any party or candidate," Harry replied. "In that way, a wealthy person could give boatloads of money to their party, but it wouldn't matter because they could only spend the same amount as any other party in that election. Likewise, they couldn't go off themselves and bribe the _Prophet_ to run a story attacking a popular opponent. It arises from the problem – in some republican systems – where the amount of money spent by one party vastly outstrips the money of another party, resulting in that party being able to purchase more adverts, or having bigger rallies, therefore having more visibility and convincing more people to vote for it. By making the amount of money parties can spend equal, we ensure a fairer election. I wouldn't want a future Abraxas Malfoy from being able to buy votes."

"I don't quite understand the new process for selecting the Minister for Magic," another grey seat said. Harry smiled, he'd said 'the new process', rather than 'the proposed process'. That boded well.

"The Parliament selects the new Minister for Magic from amongst the Members of Parliament," Harry explained. "In order to become the Minister, you must first be a member. Second, you must hold the confidence of the majority of Parliament, or you won't be selected. The new Minister need not be the leader of their party, merely the person who can get the most votes in Parliament. In the muggle Parliament, that person is usually selected internally by the party with the majority or at least a plurality, and then they receive the entirety of that party's votes to become the new Prime Minister or the leading party and other parties in their coalition vote for him to become the new Prime Minister.

"It is a mechanism that ensures the Prime Minister, or in our case, the Minister for Magic, has the support of Parliament, and can accomplish their agenda in the government. It would be ridiculous if the Minister for Magic and Parliament didn't see eye to eye, and Parliament refused to pass bills to fund the government or the Minister refused to enforce laws Parliament passed. That might happen if the people selected the Minister for Magic directly. This way, the people still have some say, but Parliament picks the person they can work best with."

"Why does the muggle King have anything to do with our government?" a third grey seat shouted next.

"The King, or rather, the Monarch of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, is the only legal entity which can bestow noble titles in England, Scotland, Ireland, and Wales. That means that they have been, are, and will continue to be instrumental in ennobling magical Britons. By restricting the Wizengamot to the heads of noble families or their designated representatives, in the case of multiple families with one head, we make the monarch indispensable to our government. Families die out, as we've recently seen. New families become worthy of ennobling all the time. I suppose, we could, at a future juncture, split with over a thousand years of tradition, and allow the most senior magical noble to ennoble magicals here, but I didn't think we were ready for that yet."

"Do you really propose to allow beasts to take part in our government?" Burke shouted from the lone dark seat.

"Centaurs and house elves speak English, like you and I," Harry countered quickly. "Merpeople have social and cultural institutions as developed as we do. Werewolves are already a part of our society, whether you acknowledge it or not. House elves and most werewolves use magic, for Merlin's sake! To continue to exclude them from crafting laws that affect them is undemocratic and, frankly, cruel. The species we've proposed to allow to participate in government are not dangerous." He held up his hands to ward off the expected protest. "Werewolves, given the proper consideration and assistance, are no more dangerous than you or I.

"As far as vampires and hags, we're handling them the same way that Canada and America handle indigenous peoples," Harry continued. "We recognize the danger of allowing them more contact with us, but to exclude them entirely is not a way to build trust with our citizens, members of their communities, and the rest of the world. We have an opportunity to take a radical step forward, and become a symbol of forward thinking and progressive change in the magical world. We can be a beacon that others look to when it comes time to modernise their governments instead of that one country that no one visits because of all the dark lords rising all the time with the backwards government that does nothing."

"So this is change for change's sake?" a grey seat asked.

"Hardly," Harry countered. "With more people participating in government, the likelihood of corruption decreases… The likelihood of consolidating power decreases… The likelihood of darkness decreases. With more effective government, with fairer government, we reduce risk and abuse by criminals. This change, while admittedly revolutionary, is necessary to prevent a recurrence of what happened recently. Magical Britain doesn't need the threat of an emerging dark lord. Grindelwald was enough, and he wasn't even from here. Can you imagine if a British dark lord managed to rise? Abraxas Malfoy came pretty close. It's time we nip this in the bud."

A contemplative hush fell over the room as various members considered what Harry had said… what Harry was proposing. For a full minute Harry remained standing alone.

"Are there any other questions of Lord Gryffindor?" the Chief Warlock asked. Silence. "Very well. Does the bill have a second?"

"Second!" called out Flea.

"We have a proposed bill that has been seconded," the Chief Warlock said. "Please cast your votes for or against the bill at this time." Harry looked around as he cast his vote. The light faction unanimously voted for the bill. The grey faction reminded Harry of a Christmas tree, with red lights interspersed amongst a sea of green. Across the chamber, a lone red light shone out of the nearly empty dark faction. "That's twenty-one votes for, five votes against. The bill passes."

A cheer erupted from somewhere down the row. Harry couldn't tell who started it, but soon, the entire light faction was raucously celebrating. Harry grabbed Hermione and kissed her soundly. Harry saw Peter King grabbing Kathleen to do the same. Elsewhere in the light faction, members were slapping each other on the backs. It took some time for the celebration to settle down. Harry endured more than a dozen handshakes before he was able to take his seat again.

According to the bill, now law, the last act of the Wizengamot before it surrendered its legislative authority and released its non-noble members was to schedule elections, provide Parliament with a place to meet, and publish the rules regarding official political parties that were eligible to stand candidates for election. Lord Longbottom stood and was recognized.

"I move that elections be scheduled for the first of July," he said loudly. "This will allow parties time to organize, and allow of age students at Hogwarts time to return home to vote."

"Seconded!" called out Lord Abbott. Again, the light block voted unanimously in favour, and the measure passed.

"I move that we contract with the goblins to build a new room across the hall from our chambers for the Parliament to meet in," proposed Flea, once he'd been recognized. "The Ministry should set a bid, and, if reasonable, assign the contract without further action from us. Otherwise, bring the contract before us for a decision."

"Seconded!" called out Harry. That measure also passed. It was also decided, after some haggling, that the rules for political parties would be forwarded to the _Daily Prophet_, and posted in both Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade for viewing. Until Parliament designated a replacement, Wizengamot Services was to oversee the elections, including the registration of parties.

"Is there any other business?" the Chief Warlock asked when things wound down after nearly two hours of hectic work. No one moved. Then, Hermione stood.

"I move that those members of the Wizengamot who are not the heads of noble houses be thanked for their work and dismissed from their seats in anticipation of the Parliamentary elections," she said solemnly. She knew that that would include her.

"Seconded!" intoned Mr. Weasley. This time the vote was twenty-five votes for, and only one – Mr. Burke's – against.

"It is with the most profound thanks of the British nation that I hereby discharge and dismiss Mr. Burke, Mr. Crouch, Mr. Doge, Mr. Grey, Lady Gryffindor, Miss Hall, Mr. King, Mr. Marchbanks, Mr. Ollivander, Mr. Prewett, Mr. Shacklebolt, Mr. Shafiq, Mr. Slughorn, Mr. Stokke, and Mr. Weasley," the Chief Warlock said. "You have been exemplary wizards and witches. May you continue to be such in Parliament should you so choose and should Britain select you. Thank you all."

Harry and the other ten lords all stood and applauded, joined by the gallery, as the commoners gathered their things and began to depart. There were handshakes and back-slaps. Harry kissed Hermione and hugged Peter and Kathleen. He shook hands with Mr. Weasley and Mr. Prewett as they left. The applause continued until the last of them had exited.

"Do I have a motion to adjourn?" the Chief Warlock asked.

"So moved," Lord Gamp said from the grey section.

"Seconded," added Lord Hawkworth before the Chief Warlock asked. And just like that, the last legislative session of the Wizengamot, ever, ended.

ooOOOOoo

Without his teaching responsibilities, and with a vastly reduced time commitment from the Wizengamot, Harry found he had quite a bit of spare time on his hands. He didn't rest on his laurels, however, and managed to avoid reporters eager to hear his version of events by secreting himself away in the headmaster's office the next day with Professor Binns' permission. He then called the heads of house into the office one by one. The first was the head of Ravenclaw and Harry's mentor, Thomas Silver.

"Why do I feel like our roles have been reversed suddenly?" Silver joked as he poked his head in the office. Harry chuckled and waved him in. Silver closed the door, crossed, and sat.

"You said I should put people in place to make policy," Harry replied. "I'm trying to do that."

"Oh, is this the meeting where you offer to make me headmaster after Cuthbert retires?" Silver asked lightly.

"Yes," Harry deadpanned, catching Silver off guard. "If you want it. Really, I'm trying to gauge interest amongst the heads of house. You're senior, so I'm asking you first. Do you want it?"

Silver leaned back in his seat, looking at the portraits of headmasters gone before arrayed on the wall beyond his left shoulder.

"That's a hell of a question to drop on someone, Harry," Silver said. He blew out a breath. "The short answer is: I don't know."

"Here's my problem," Harry revealed, leaning forward. "You're senior, both by dint of your age, your tenure of service, and your time as a head of house. The next most senior professor is…"

"Horace," Silver finished. "Damn. He'd leap at the chance, too."

"You see my problem," Harry agreed. "While Slughorn is a talented potioneer, and a good teacher, his knack for 'collecting' people…" Harry left the rest unsaid.

"Becoming headmaster would be quite the feather in his cap," Silver allowed. He sat for a moment, thinking. Eventually, he looked up at Harry. Searching his eyes, he found… something. "I don't particularly want the job, Harry. However, I don't feel that Horace would be a good fit for the position." He paused again, trying to find how to put his concept into words. "Have you considered bringing in someone from outside?"

"Do you have someone in mind?" Harry wanted to know.

"I do, but I don't know how you'll react."

"Why don't you just tell me who and why, and I'll think about it," Harry replied.

"Hermione." Harry's eyebrows rose, but not much. "She'll be done with her masters… gods, probably Victoria would give it to her tomorrow if she asked. She bloody loves learning. She's off the Wizengamot now, thanks to you, so she's at loose ends…"

"We'll see how long that lasts," Harry laughed. "She's already talking about running for Parliament."

"She can do both," Silver shrugged. "At her age, she's unlikely to become PM or a cabinet secretary if she's elected. She's also unlikely to be a party leader. Here, she could affect real change. Also, I'd be willing to take up the position of deputy head and help her come to terms with her office."

"And what of charges of nepotism, or that there are more qualified older candidates?" Harry asked.

"Fuck 'em," Silver said bluntly. Harry laughed. "Look, Harry. Hermione's qualified, probably interested, and can serve long enough to put her stamp on the job. She could be in office for a hundred bloody years given her age. A century of change! Think about what that could do to our society."

"Fine," Harry said, holding up his hands. "You've sold me." He put his hands down and sagged a bit. "Now we just need to sell Hermione."

"That shouldn't take much work."

ooOOOOoo

"'Mione?" Harry began that night as they were preparing to turn in.

"Yeah?" she replied from her vanity where she was fixing her hair for bed.

"How would you like to be Headmistress of Hogwarts when Binns retires?" he asked as he sat on the bed. He looked over at her, frozen with a bobby pin in her hand.

"Run that by me again," she instructed.

"Thomas suggested I make you Headmistress after Binns retires," Harry repeated. "He doesn't want the job. Slughorn's next in line, but…"

"Jesus," Hermione swore. "He'd be a train wreck!" Harry snorted.

"Something like that," he agreed. "Anyway, Thomas suggested that you'd be the perfect candidate for the job."

"But I'm not done with my mastery yet!" Hermione objected. "I'm not a professor! I'm not even twenty."

"Victoria will be presenting you your mastery tomorrow when you show up for work," Harry revealed. "I talked to her today as well, and she agreed that you're more than ready. She was waiting for the end of the school year, but was happy to move up the date so you could take up the mantle of Headmistress when Binns retires at the end of June. She figures it'll take at least that long for you to get spun up on the job."

"It sounds like you're all conspiring against me," Hermione said, pitching about for something, anything that might slow down the freight train of inevitability. "Don't you think this smacks of nepotism?"

"So?" Harry asked, leaning back on the bed. "Hogwarts isn't a government institution. It's a private one. I'm the school's governor, and I can appoint anyone I want as head. There's no oversight beyond me. If anyone doesn't like it, they can found their own school." He sighed.

"'Mione, you're a really smart person," he continued. "You love learning, and have ideas for days. Thomas pointed out that you could have a century of being head to influence what's taught and how. You can ditch Slughorn if you like. You can not hire Snape if he ever comes around. You can ensure the likes of Gilderoy Lockhart never darken the doorstep of our noble institution. You can make History fun, and tell the prof to skip the goblin rebellions. You can ensure Muggle Studies actually teaches about modern muggles. You can keep the Care of Magical Creatures teacher from breeding Blast-Ended Skrewts. Divination? Not if you don't want it! That's what I want to give to you. I'd do it, but I'm already busy with Hogsmeade, overseeing Hogwarts, and the Wizengamot."

"But I want to run for Parliament," Hermione argued, finished with her hair. She stood and moved over to the bed.

"So?" Harry countered as she got in. "Dumbledore was Supreme Mugwump, Chief Warlock, and Headmaster…"

"And he didn't do a very good job with any of them," Hermione countered. "He was always very busy, and things still slipped through the cracks."

"You'll be doing one and a half jobs," Harry said. "Parliament'll only meet on weekends, when you won't be need to be Headmistressing. Thomas offered to take up the deputy position to help you. And, based on your age and experience, you probably won't be made PM or a cabinet minister. You won't be party leadership. You won't be speaker, or a whip. As a back bencher, you'll have plenty of time to devote as much energy as you need to in order to do both jobs. It'll be perfect."

Hermione thought about what he'd said for a moment as she pulled up the covers. The she smiled a wide smile.

"It would be perfect, wouldn't it?"

"So you'll do it?"

"Sure." She leaned over and kissed him soundly. "I'd love to."

ooOOOOoo

"What are you working on?" Harry asked the next Friday. Hermione was at home, surrounded by piles of parchments and books.

"Politics," she replied, not looking up. "I'm writing an editorial for the _Prophet_ laying out the Liberals' stance. It's never too early to get people thinking about how they're going to vote, and we need to build the party.

Harry and Hermione were both founding members of the Liberal party, along with Flea, Lord Abbott, Sam, Lord Longbottom, Neville, and others. It was, in fact, the first party formed, having emerged from a dinner party at Peverell Court on the night of Monday, March 6th. It had been announced in the _Prophet_ the next day, and six hours later the formation of another party, the Traditionalists, was announced on the wireless.

Mr. Burke was the Traditionalists' spokesman, and he had railed for five minutes about the changes going on in the British Magical Government, and vowed that the Traditionalists would put everything back the way it had been. He didn't say who else, if anyone, was a member of the Traditionalists.

Other parties sprouted up later in the week. The Conservatives were headed by Mr. Slughorn and Mr. Stokke of the old grey faction. They'd announced themselves Wednesday morning. The Socialists had been formed by about a dozen young muggleborns on Wednesday. The Centrist Party arrived on Thursday under the leadership of Lord Greengrass and Mr. Marchbanks.

"You're right," Harry agreed. "We need to pull muggleborns away from the Socialists, and businessmen away from the Centrists."

"What about the Conservatives and the Traditionalists?" Hermione asked, looking up from her work at last.

"I don't think we'll ever convince Burke that he'll want to join us," Harry shrugged. "And I think the Centrists have a better chance of pulling Conservatives than we do. Can we work with them?"

"Well, there's no information on them yet," Hermione allowed, "but based on known members' actions in the Wizengamot, I'd say tentatively, yes, we can probably for a coalition government with the Centrists. The Socialists are a complete unknown, though."

"Sounds like they're mostly muggleborns without any experience in government before," Harry observed. "They'll probably have loads of good ideas and no idea how to implement them. We're their closest allies, as well, meaning we'll – I mean, you'll – have to reach out to them and temper their enthusiasm with a little reality without alienating them. It'll be a difficult tightrope to walk."

"This is why we need to get our message out now," Hermione explained. "If they know where we're at, they can approach us with ideas, and we can shake everything out once the election's happened. I just wish we had more information."

"It's not even been two days since the last party formed," Harry cautioned. "Of course there's not enough information. But things'll shake themselves out. By the election, you'll have a good idea of where everyone stands."

"I hope so." She sighed and went back to work, making notes on a piece of parchment. Harry watched her for a few moments before retreating to the cellar to watch a film on the special projector his wife had gotten him for his last birthday.

He flipped through the films until he found Ghostbusters. As the opening credits rolled, he flopped down on the couch and relaxed.

ooOOOOoo

On June 23, 1950, Headmaster Binns stood before the entire school at the conclusion of the leaving feast. There was a hush among the students. Harry and Hermione sat to Binns' right, while Silver sat to his left.

"So ends another year at Hogwarts," he said, his voice croaky. "Outside the castle there has been turmoil and strife, and some of you have suffered for it. Still, you have all done an excellent job this year, and should be proud of yourselves. Still, one house has risen above the rest, as is usually the case. This year's House Cup goes to…" It wasn't even in question, Binns' was just being melodramatic. "Ravenclaw!" The Ravenclaws cheered, and Binns redecorated the Great Hall in blue and bronze. He brought out the House Cup and emblazoned their house's name on the plaque.

"Now, there's one other award to hand out before we get to the announcements," Binns continued, his voice stronger. "Will Mr. Matthews please come up?" A muscled seventh-year Ravenclaw, which was itself unusual, made his way to the front of the room and up onto the raised platform where the staff ate. "Mr. Matthews led the Eagles to victory this year in the Inter-House Quidditch League, beating all of the other teams. His team's record of 1,010 points is an outstanding achievement. Congratulations." The resulting applause was raucous from the Ravenclaw table and polite from everyone else. Binns handed over the trophy with a smile on his face.

Harry pondered Binns' smile. Having had him for a teacher, and worked with him the past year, he could honestly say that Binns alive was far better than Binns dead. Dippet and Dumbledore had done the man no favours by allowing him to continue teaching as a ghost. He was happy Binns had the chance to retire and enjoy his last years, however many there'd be.

"Now, I have a final announcement to make," Binns said. "I am retiring as Headmaster of Hogwarts. It has been my honour and privilege to hold this position, and watch you all grow over the last few years. My tenure has been short, but it is my choice to retire now. Having reached the height of my profession, there's now more I want to do outside of it. The world is changing and I am changing with it. I've accepted a place on the ballot of the Conservative Party in the upcoming elections, and I'd like to travel. As you seventh years know, or will soon discover, the world is much, much larger than Hogwarts, or Hogsmeade, or even Magical Britain."

Harry didn't know what to think about that. He didn't think Binns' comments were an intentional slight against him, but with him accepting a spot on the Conservative ticket, anything was possible. Harry decided to ignore it, and rose with a smile.

"I'd like to thank the Headmaster for his hard work these past few years in his current position, and for his lifetime of dedication to teaching and Hogwarts," Harry said simply. The hall erupted in applause for the old man. Harry shook his hand.

Looking Binns in the eye, Harry could see the moment was bittersweet. Perhaps the old man had wanted to continue as head after all. Still, Harry knew if he stayed he'd probably die here and become a ghost, which wasn't something he was prepared to allow. In the end, Harry decided he was happy. Binns was no longer under Harry's thumb, and was free to be his own man again. With the pension Harry was paying him, he could do practically whatever he wanted.

Soon, the applause died down. Harry remained standing, even as Binns sat.

"When you first through sixth years return in September, you'll be greeted by the new Headmistress of Hogwarts, the Lady Gryffindor," he said brightly. The hall was silent for a moment, before the applause began. It rose slowly, but grew loud and long. Hermione stood and nodded, accepting the acclaim graciously. She'd been a popular teacher amongst the first years, and was well known around the castle as someone you could seek out for answers if you didn't want to go to a professor. "She will be assisted by our new Deputy Headmaster, Professor Silver." The post had been vacant since Dumbledore's death, as Binns was able to do both jobs, seeing as he didn't hold any outside positions. This return of the position signalled to anyone with doubts that the school's administration would continue to be run well.

As he sat, Harry looked at Binns, who smiled at him. Maybe the Binns business was all in his head.

ooOOOOoo

July 1, 1950, election day in Magical Britain, the first ever, dawned warm and sunny at Edgewood. Hermione's side of the bed was empty. Harry mentally rolled his eyes, she was already up, probably had been for a while, working on the Liberal campaign. Harry showered and pulled on a light blue button down shirt, rolling the sleeves up, and a pair of khaki trousers with his brown Oxfords.

In the kitchen, he found Mipsy serving breakfast to Elizabeth and Richard, who were fitting in quite nicely, if Harry did say so himself. As he sat down he looked around the table. He'd grown accustomed to the food available in mid-century. It wasn't as sugary, or as salty, as what he had been used to before, but it was healthy, and despite rationing, there was plenty to go around. One of Mipsy's biggest jobs was maintaining the vegetable gardens that Mia had begun during the war. She was very good at it.

"Are you both ready to go to Hogsmeade today?" Harry asked as he ladled some oatmeal into a bowl. It was one of seven polling places that had been established for the election: Diagon Alley, Ottery St. Catchpole, and Godric's Hollow in England; Hogsmeade and Wigtown in Scotland; Kenmare in Ireland; and Holyhead in Wales. The two nodded. They wouldn't be able to vote, and they didn't strictly have to go, Mipsy could've made sure they stayed out of trouble, but it was an excuse to get out of the house and do a bit of shopping. A few minutes later, Hermione rushed in.

"Are you lot ready?" she asked curtly. "The polls open in half an hour."

"I'm aware," Harry replied, speaking around the last spoonful of oatmeal. "We're ready to go." He punctuated that by downing the last of his tea, clinking the empty cup against the saucer. Their wards were already starting to rise. Though they'd been with the Potters for only a week since school had let out, they already knew that Hermione had a short fuse where the election was concerned. Harry had reassured them that she'd call down on July 2nd, whether she'd been elected or not.

Thirty seconds later, the polyglot family of four was flooing to their Hogsmeade property, and stepping out into the Scottish sunlight.

"We'll be at the village hall pretty much all day," Harry told Elizabeth. "You should be able to find us there, or someone will know where we are. We'll meet you at the Three Broomsticks at noon for lunch, alright?"

"Yes, _father_," Elizabeth huffed, but she grinned, then grabbed Richard's hand and disappeared into the crowd of people that populated the High Street that day. Harry shook his head with a grin of his own, took Hermione's hand and headed off toward the village hall.

"Lord Gryffindor!" Mrs. Rakepick called after they'd gone about a block. Harry looked up one of the side streets to see the council president hurrying towards him.

"Good morning, Mrs. Rakepick," Harry greeted warmly. "How're things?"

"Splendid!" Mrs. Rakepick replied, falling in beside Harry on his free side. "Everyone's very excited for today. I was wondering if I could take a bit of time later to discuss a proposition."

"I don't see why not," Harry shrugged. "What is it?"

"Some of the council have been talking, and we've decided, as the only purely magical community in the British Isles, that it's high time we had our own quidditch team," Mrs. Rakepick revealed.

"So you'd like Hogsmeade to form our own team, or do you want an existing team to move here?" Harry asked.

"One of the council members, Warren Ivers, is friends with a few members of the British and Irish Quidditch League, and they wouldn't be averse to another team," Mrs. Rakepick answered. "There are thirteen teams now, and one more would mean they could have a more even league."

"Okay," Harry allowed. "So you want permission for the council to form a team? I'm confused."

"Actually, we were sort of hoping you'd be interested in forming the team," Mrs. Rakepick replied. "I remember how good a player you were, and now that you're done with your mastery, and your Wizengamot responsibilities are scaled back, you've more time. I think a Hogsmeade quidditch team with Lord Gryffindor as seeker would be absolutely smashing!"

"While I can't say I'm opposed to the idea of forming a Hogsmeade quidditch team, I think doing so and then playing as seeker would make it seem as though I'd done it so that I could make myself seeker," Harry countered. "If, however, the council were to form the team, with some anonymous financial backing, of course, I could then try out for the seeker position at open trials, and if I won, nobody could say anything."

"Smashing," Mrs. Rakepick beamed. "I'll have Warren start drawing up the incorporation papers tomorrow, and I'll let you know how much of an anonymous donation we'd require in a few days."

"You'll need a pitch," Harry pointed out, "if only just to practice. The Hogwarts pitch could work in a pinch, but you'll really want your own. The Hogwarts pitch gets pretty busy during term."

"Of course," Mrs. Rakepick allowed. "Plus uniforms, brooms, practise balls…"

"Offices, changing rooms, equipment rooms, a manager, coaches, trainers, assistants, a groundskeeper, a public relations representative, the list really does go on," Harry finished.

"You should talk to Warren," Mrs. Rakepick pointed out. "Can you swing round the council hall tomorrow? Your input would be greatly appreciated, I'm sure."

"I think I can squeeze in a visit," Harry agreed. "Might have to do it between victory parties, though."

"I should certainly hope so!" Mrs. Rakepick huffed. She, like Hermione, was an avowed Liberal. Most of the population of Hogsmeade was. Blue and white Liberal banners could be seen adorning many home and shop.

The quidditch talk had carried them almost all the way down the High Street. The village hall was directly in front of them. Harry had turned to Hermione and was about to say something when he heard the last two words he expected to hear that day.

"_Avada Kedavra_!"

Before he could even turn to see where the curse had originated, the world went black.


	10. Chapter 10

**Epilogue—Life Goes On**

Hermione whirled around to see a cloaked man holding a wand nearly in Harry's back. Before he could react, she'd banished him wandlessly into a nearby shop wall, knocking him unconscious. Beside her, Harry's lifeless body had already crumpled to the ground. Mrs. Rakepick's eyes were like dinner plates as she stared down at Harry in shock.

Crowds raced over to both where Harry and Hermione were and where the cloaked man was. One of those bystanders was a constable, who stunned the man before pushing back his hood.

Hermione, having dispatched Harry's killer for the moment, was down on her hands and knees in an instant. Tears streaked her face as she clutched at Harry's lifeless body. The man she loved – the man she'd come to rely on as her partner in all things – was gone. There was nothing to do but weep.

The constable levitated the man over to where Harry lay. While Hermione had been grieving, he'd been working. He relieved the man of his wand, and checked him for portkeys, finding two. He'd also taken his other personal items for cataloguing.

"Lady Gryffindor," the constable said, bending over and putting his hand on her shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting manner. "Do you know this man?"

Hermione looked up from her husband for the first time in perhaps five minutes. The man was young… maybe eighteen. He had dull brown hair neatly combed. There was no stubble on his face, but Hermione could tell he'd shaved recently. He had a largish nose. She didn't know his name, but she recognised him.

"I don't know his name," she replied. "But he was a Hogwarts student this past year. A seventh year Slytherin, if I'm not mistaken."

The constable sighed, expecting the answer, but not liking it.

"I'll have to revive him then," he said, binding the man. "_Rennervate_." The bound man blinked awake, and the constable loomed over him, the crowd pressing close to hear. "What's your name?"

ooOOOOoo

Swirling mist coalesced into forms. Harry found himself standing in the entrance hall of Peverell Court. He looked around briefly, trying a door. It wouldn't open. In a corner, beside an umbrella stand, was a small basket that emitted soft whimpers.

Harry moved over to the basket, taking the time to feel the soft white fabric of his loose new robes as he went. Peering down, he saw a hideously deformed baby squirming in some blankets.

The door to the parlour opened, and Lord Henry entered.

"Hello, Harry," he said brightly.

"You're… you're dead," Harry said, straightening up and approaching his great grandfather. Lord Henry nodded. He was wearing a white robe similar to Harry's.

"I am," Lord Henry replied.

"Am I?" Harry asked.

"Not quite," Lord Henry answered. "You both are and aren't."

"How is that possible?"

"I suppose it's better to say that you are dead, but needn't remain so," Lord Henry offered. "That disgusting creature in the basket is your ticket back to the land of the living, if you so choose."

"Then why am I here?" Harry asked, confused.

"You were struck by the killing curse," Lord Henry said. "However, you were a horcrux – Tom Riddle's last. That… thing," he continued, pointing at the baby, "is the last bit of Riddle's soul. When Riddle killed your mum, and then tried to kill you, his curse backfired and struck him, shattering his soul one last time. The soul shard latched onto you, the closest soul it could find." He paused for a moment. "The price exacted by the killing curse is a soul. You, though, harboured two souls. Only one need pass to the realm of the dead."

"Why are you here?" Harry asked.

"I volunteered to collect the last shard of the blighter who would try to destroy my family," Lord Henry said with a smile.

"I thought you said I had a choice," Harry countered.

"You don't," Lord Henry replied. "Not really. You're going back to the living, and finishing what you started. You're going to make Hermione the happiest woman alive, live to a ripe old age, and have lots of babies."

"Lots of babies?" Harry asked sceptically.

"Well, some babies," Lord Henry allowed. "The point is, I'm not taking you any further, so you'll have to go back. I insist upon it. You're too important to our family, and Britain to not do so."

"It would be irresponsible of me not to go back, seeing as I have the chance," Harry agreed. He looked at the whining baby. "Damn."

"It didn't ever affect you, if you're worried about it," Lord Henry said. "It did give you the ability to speak _parseltongue_, but now that you have it, you won't lose it."

"That's not what I'm worried about," Harry revealed. "When I go back, I'll be the boy-who-lived again. I was so enjoying not being famous for that."

"I understand," Lord Henry consoled. "But think about it this way: you're already famous. Everyone in Magical Britain already knows who you are. This will be just another thing you've done. People won't know you for this, rather, they'll know about this because you're famous… famous for being a good man, a great leader, and a social reformer. This will be the opposite of the way it was in your old life."

Harry paused to consider what Lord Henry had said. It was true. Harry was already famous in his current life, and not for being the boy-who-lived. He had managed to lead a shire and a school. He'd sat on the Wizengamot and changed the face of Magical British government. He'd stopped dark wizards from corrupting his country. He was famous. His name appeared in the _Prophet_ daily. Things he did were newsworthy. This was just another of those things. Harry smiled.

"I'll do it."

Lord Henry waved his hand and the mist occluded Harry's vision.

ooOOOOoo

Harry blinked awake, laying in the street. For a second he continued to lay there, unmoving, assessing his body. He felt fine, better than fine, actually.

"What's your name?" he heard a man ask. Harry looked over and saw a recently graduated seventh year Slytherin laying bound in the street next to him.

"That's Peter Burke," Harry said. There were gasps all around. Burke's eyes went wide and he started shaking, then abruptly passed out.

"Harry!" Hermione cried, wrapping him up in a hug. "I thought…"

"I know," Harry said, hugging her back. "I thought so too."

"What…"

"Shhh," Harry whispered, holding her close. "I'll tell you later. It's not for everyone to know."

"Lord Gryffindor!" the constable called from where he hovered over his prisoner. "Are you alright?"

"I am," Harry informed him. "Thank you. Is this the man who tried to murder me?"

"It is," the constable said. "Lady Gryffindor banished him into a wall, knocking him out and preventing his escape.

"It would seem you have things here well in hand," Harry observed. "Can I trust you to complete the investigation without me?"

"Yes, milord," the constable agreed.

"Good," Harry said, standing. "Lady Gryffindor and myself have an election to get to."

"Harry, are you sure?" Hermione asked. "You were just…"

"I'm fine," Harry said. "No harm was done. Now, let's go. The polls are about to open."

ooOOOOoo

The results were in the next day. The Liberals had won by a landslide, nearly sixty percent of the vote. Hermione, being in the upper half of the slate of Liberal candidates was seated in Parliament along with Alphard Grey, Neville Longbottom, and Lady Winifred. Mr. Weasley became the first Prime Minister of Magical Britain, while Mr. Crouch became the first speaker, and Mr. Prewett became the first leader of the Liberals.

Mr. Burke, though he'd won the traditionalists' only seat in Parliament, never took it up. He'd been arrested for conspiracy to commit murder, for encouraging his nephew to assassinate Harry.

Harry did end up playing seeker for the newly formed Hogsmeade QC. The team went on to win the league cup three years in a row before Harry was drafted onto the English national team in 1954, where he took them all the way to the finals, where they lost to France. Victory was his, though, in 1958, when the English national team took the World Cup against Sweden, with Harry using the 'Potter feint' to knock out the Swedish seeker before snagging the snitch.

Hermione spent most of her time as headmistress of Hogwarts, but was still a reliable vote for the Liberals in Parliament, which she made a point to never miss. She won re-election in 1955, but declined to run again in 1960.

Alphard became a very effective politician, rising to the top of the party leadership in the Liberals. He was invited to be Prime Minister in 1960, when Mr. Weasley retired. In 1955 he married his long-time girlfriend, Ann Parker.

Neville and Marina were married in the summer of 1950, after they'd completed their masteries. Neville went on to manage the family greenhouses for years, before finally giving it up in 1970. The reason he gave it up was that Alphard was quitting as Prime Minister, and Neville had gotten the nod. Between Neville, Alphard, and Mr. Weasley, they effectively established the tradition of no Prime Minister serving more than ten years.

Peter King and Kathleen Hall married in 1950 as well. Peter became a shopkeeper in Hogsmeade, with Kathleen assisting him. The store, King's Mercantile, was a muggleware shop. It sold everyday muggle items, sometimes enchanted to work better (like kitchenware), and sometimes just charmed to be more useful or durable than might otherwise be the case. Their pens and paper, being something of an improvement over quills and parchment, became a must-buy for most students at Hogwarts, something Harry and Hermione encouraged.

Harry and Hermione also returned every summer to Saint-Tropez. They sold homes to Neville and Peter at deep discounts. Flea and Mia also bought a home there. The rest of the homes the younger Potters turned a nice profit on, selling to the rich and famous jet setters starting in the late 1950s. Hermione finally got her yacht, which they spent lazy days lounging on with their friends. Nights were frequently spent in town, gadding about with movie stars and other celebrities. Some of Harry and Hermione's fondest memories were made in southern France.

Harry retired from professional quidditch in 1959 when Hermione became pregnant with their first child. Daniel James Potter was born on March 4, 1960. Daniel was a healthy boy with messy black hair like his father and soulful brown eyes like his mother. Twenty-three days later, Daniel's uncle (or grandfather, depending on how one looked at it) James was born. Hermione's pregnancy had been fairly easy as they go, and was helped immensely by Mia being pregnant at the same time.

Her next pregnancy, resulting in Emma Emmanuel Potter, on June 30, 1962, and her final pregnancy, resulting in Lily Susan Potter, on November 1, 1964, were nearly as easy as the first. Emma and Lily both got their father's black hair, but as it grew out it fell into soft curls as opposed to Harry's messy fop. Emma got Harry's green eyes, while Lily got her mother's brown ones. They were all polite and friendly children.

Daniel, the eldest, was a leader. In that way, he emulated his father, though he wouldn't acknowledge it. He was always coming up with games to play with his friends and siblings. He was serious, but still maintained a good sense of humour.

Emma, the middle child, grew to be bookish like her mother. She was more aloof than her siblings, preferring to relax in the library with a good book. She smiled frequently, but was also quite serious. She was very slow to anger, but once reached, she had a tendency to explode in fury.

Lily, the youngest, was a free spirit. She preferred the outdoors, and spent hours exploring the forest at Edgewood. She had a vivid imagination that she used regularly. She was gentle and kind. Her near constant joy almost manifested physically.

As the children grew, they often played with 'Uncle James' and a couple of distant relations, Sirius and Regulus Black. Sirius' mother had been released from prison in 1958, having served eight years for sedition and other charges. Not having murdered anyone, she was released. Walburga visited her husband in prison regularly, where he finally whelped a child on her not once, but twice.

In 1966, she was returned to prison for conspiracy to assist in the escape of her husband, which was caught mid-go. Her children were placed with their closest living relative, Alphard.

The next year saw Professor Robards, who'd taught Transfiguration since Dumbledore's death, accepting a position with the Ministry. Hermione was more than happy to fill the vacancy with a beaming and excited Minerva McGonagall. Both women were extremely happy to be working together. McGonagall was also happy to be able to leave her position in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, where she'd been working since obtaining her mastery in Transfiguration.

In 1971, Harry and Hermione watched as Daniel, James, and Sirius were all sorted into Gryffindor, along with a wide-eyed muggleborn named Lily Potter, and a chubby little half-blood named Peter Pettigrew. A dour, dark haired boy, Severus Snape, went to Slytherin that year.

The children of other family friends – notably the Longbottoms, Greys, and Kings – had been attending Hogwarts for some time already. Harry and Hermione had been rather late to the game in that regard. Sam Longbottom, the eldest of their friends' children, had started Hogwarts in 1963, and already graduated. Other Longbottoms, Greys, and Kings were current students.

That year, Harry was a regular visitor to Hogwarts, where he, at long last, revealed the truth of his origins to James and Lily (separately – he very much didn't want to upset their timelines), and revealed that they were his parents. Harry also took the time to clue James in that he might not want to befriend Peter Pettigrew, and told him why. After that, James, Daniel, and Sirius steered well clear of Pettigrew, but did befriend another Gryffindor, Remus Lupin.

With new regulations and enforcement in place, werewolves weren't as hated, or as common, as they had been in Harry's past. Remus Lupin hadn't been bitten, and therefore wasn't a werewolf. That didn't prevent him from turning into a wolf, but that only happened in seventh year when he, Daniel, James, and Sirius all became animagi.

Daniel fell in love with Marlene McKinnon fifth year, and had to fight Sirius for her affections. Daniel won, mostly because Sirius was too busy pranking Severus Snape to try very hard, but it did strain their friendship for several months. Sirius moved on to other girls, eventually settling on Daniel's sister Emma in 1980, immediately after she graduated from Hogwarts.

James finally got around to romancing Lily in sixth year, and he and Lily were head boy and girl in their seventh year. James and Lily graduated in 1978 and were married a year later.

Emma followed in James' footsteps, being head girl in her seventh year. She also ended up matching her mother's accomplishments on both her OWLs and NEWTs.

Lily graduated as one of the most popular people in her school. She ended up settling down with a muggleborn boy a few years after she graduated, and they finally married in 1990.

ooOOOOoo

"You said you just wanted to look," Harry said, glancing around. The hospital was very clean, and had the medical smell that hospitals do.

"I know what I said," Hermione shot back. "But… I can't help myself! They're right there!" She gestured to the far side of a door. Through a small window, Harry could see a man and a woman cuddling a newborn. It was September 19, 1979.

"Fine," Harry grinned. He didn't really care. They'd find out most everything eventually anyway. There wasn't really any harm in them learning it now.

"Yay!" Hermione did a little dance, then rapped lightly on the door before cracking it open. The two new parents looked up. "Mr. and Mrs. Granger?"

"Yes," Mr. Granger replied.

"Hello," she said, stepping into the room. "I'm Hermione Potter. This is my husband, Harry." She stood there by the door for a moment, watching the shock of meeting another Hermione register on their faces. By this point, Harry and Hermione were both in their late forties, but looked slightly younger.

"That's our daughter's name!" Mrs. Granger finally said, holding up the swaddled cloth bundle.

"I know," Hermione replied. "Congratulations, by the way. I know she'll make you very happy."

"Thank you," Mr. Granger responded. Then, pausing momentarily, considering them. Shortly, he continued. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"I want to tell you something, but it's quite shocking, and the last thing I want to do is disturb you," Hermione answered carefully.

"Is it bad?" Mrs. Granger asked from the bed.

"No, no," Hermione replied quickly. "Not at all." She looked to Harry. "Do I tell them the shocking bit up front, or ease them into it?"

"Best to rip of the bandage," Harry shrugged. "But it's up to you, love." Hermione nodded and turned back to the Grangers.

"Your daughter, Hermione?" she prefaced. "I'm her."

For a full minute there was dead silence. Then Mr. Granger stood from his seat next to his wife, turning purple.

"What the hell are you playing at?" he nearly shouted. Harry supposed he was only keeping his voice down for the sake of the baby.

"I'm not playing at anything," Hermione said. "I'm your daughter. It's how I knew you'd be here today. It's rather complicated, really, but the short story is that magic is real, and as a result of a magical accident, I went back in time from 1996 to 1947, where I've lived in a new time stream ever since. I'm sure you're familiar with the multiverse theory."

"You expect me to believe that?" Mr. Granger scoffed. Harry merely produced his wand, conjured a dozen red roses, and presented them to Mrs. Granger. Hermione shifted briefly into her red fox animagus form before shifting back.

"I do expect you to believe that," Hermione agreed. "I'm your daughter, and your daughter is a witch."

"Why did you wait until now?" Mrs. Granger wanted to know.

"I'm the Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and as Headmistress, I've come to tell you that your daughter is a witch," Hermione explained. "Usually this is done when a child is about to turn eleven, but this is a special case. Before you'd birthed your daughter, I couldn't legally tell you about magic. Now I can."

"That still doesn't explain why you didn't wait until later," Mr. Granger said.

"I was planning on just looking in through the door," Hermione admitted. "But… I've missed you, dad, and you, mum. It's been incredibly hard these past thirty years without you. I realized I couldn't not tell you."

"I believe her," Mrs. Granger said to her husband. "She even looks like us." Mr. Granger then took a moment to consider it. She did look quite similar to his wife, with some bits of his mum thrown in.

"Jesus Christ," he swore at last. "So now what?"

"Whatever you want," Hermione replied, approaching her dad for their first hug in over three decades. Even Harry didn't have dry eyes after that.

ooOOOOoo

Harry was there at that cottage in Godric's Hollow, not quite a year later, to welcome the July 31, 1980 birth of James and Lily's son, Harry Evans Potter. The elder Harry was welcomed into the bedroom after Lily and Harry had been cleaned up. Approaching the bed, Harry could see that the baby already sported a good amount of unruly black hair. He bent down and for the first time, stared into his own emerald eyes without the use of a mirror. He reached out with and hand and the baby grasped Harry's finger with his tiny hand.

"You're going to have the life I never could."

THE END


End file.
